Sleepwalking into utter boredom,
that gnawing boredom with the self,
self, self, self,
And yet more self.
And still the working day unfolds;
more spirit-crushing paper pushing,
more elliptical conversations,
with no answers found,
to myriad questions.
On Hoe Street I see Joe,
Retired calling a jaunty buon appetite from
the other side of the road.
I chuckle, momentarily let loose from here,