Decrepit in ineptitude
he’d crept into a simple room without a view
now what to do
So many things to take away
were on display to his dismay he hit the ground
and there he lay
Like Goldilocks he gawks
at pretty clocks a jewelry box and bonds and stocks
then someone knocks
There’s no one here he cries
and shuts his eyes to his surprise the knocking dies
yet there he lies
O vacillating burglar
How cute you must have been
Your head spinning like a lighthouse lamp
Your clammy little fingers clutching at grunion
squirming on the shores of indecision
Your path to success lies not here
Incipient barista
Get thee to a coffee house