Reflection In a Phial

Reflection in a Phial I look at my hands they are brown as a farmer`s, this pleases me, although, I have no land to plough, a tractor or a mule, a workman`s sturdy hand; all socialists should have hands that have harvested potatoes or carrots. I flex my muscles of my upper arms, see a faint movement like a mouse moving under thawing spring snow. Glorious vanity I used to do hundred press- ups, a day in the hope to look strong and furious. I think of sex sadly I wasn`t any good at it, after the act, I looked for a book to read. The squalid side of life has always mystified me, why does a person chooses a path that leads moral disgrace and ruin? I have always been lazy, strenuous effort will not touch me, but I would like to pull up a few more carrots