Читать книгу For Display Purposes Only - David Seymour - Страница 11

There are envelopes with plastic windows,

they won’t stop searching for you. Feeling owed,

when the last shopper’s off the streets in bed,

your late carnations on the kitchen table fed

with 7-Up for perk, the kids asleep unwashed,

each blind eye will throw another unabashed

glance, and find nobody but the television left on

long after the collector had rung the bell and waited,

his watch face, and his own, unmoving, wan.

Not that there was much else he anticipated.