easy
in the easiest of easy chairs
he sits
nowhere to be
nothing to see
he thinks
perhaps it best
if I return to my rest
he discovers
it is impossible to sleep
when through the blinds the sun peeps
he fumes
to hell with this miserable day
may the gods send the whole of you away
he sulks
this he knows
I am a man that neither reaps nor sows
he imagines
tomorrow I will improve my miserable lot
unless the weather proves too hot
he says,
there is always tomorrow
or the day after that