Shuffling feet
On the gravel drive woke him
From a slumber darker
Than the sight of his own eyelids,
Curious, he rose
And peering through the curtain crack
Saw his own soul leaving home on foot.
It looked dejected as it walked away,
Head bowed, red with shame.
Pulling on his dressing gown
And slippers, he ran after it
Shouting, "come back I need you,
I need my soul!"
But his soul ignored him,
Walking slowly on into the morning.

Quietly weeping
He returned to bed
And finding in his place a machine,
Cunningly constructed
To pay bills and lay women
He sat in the corner and cried for yesterday
And while he cried
He thought of all he'd done
And decided that
If in the position of his soul
He too would leave a machine
To pay the bills and lay the women
And the man to mourn the loss
Of both,
And the loss
Of nothing.

©Crocodile Productions - 1984