On this most cherished morn you opened a can of corn and 
twisted out the blinds, revealing a room adorned with 
packages to wrap. There's room at the edges for a victory 
lap when the working day is through. You'll obey your 
pillow, though you won't volunteer. The way your eyelids 
hang down now, the weight upon your eyebrow, you can feel 
it. SE 45th's your favorite street, where daily you find 
your seat in a place where the eaves protect the papers 
from rain and sleet. You wad them up in a ball to line 
the boxes in case they fall. Everyone I know is riding 
around with no place to go and no money for the arcade. 
Meanwhile you're contentedly running the show. You've 
mastered it like a dance; you mark the package, 'Ship out 
to Paris, France.' Now obey your pillow, miss business 
pioneer. The way your eyelids hang down now, the weight 
upon your eyebrow, you can't escape it. Say goodbye to 
me, close the door and turn the key. We leave for 
different poles though your watch reads but 9:03 PM. Your 
yawning I've read as a cue for you to go home and go to 
bed  and obey your pillow, though you don't volunteer. 
The way your eyelids hang down now, the weight upon your 
eyebrow, you can feel it.