One More For the Floor

` It was just another desk propped against a cardboard wall, nothing fancy or dreamlike and on a notepad from someone’s kitchen drawer were scrawled words, little phrases in permanent ink, but not crumble proof, as he did this a lot The bin had a wide mouth as if yawning and he understood Taking aim, the rim a foe, the floor a captor, distracted by fluorescent light flickers from a ballast that can’t seem to keep its head above water His arms stick to the top, sweat gathers in familiar corners while he writes yet again whatever it is that triggers his mind and he too yawns one more for the floor