the plums have been swept from the sidewalk
the game shows are back on t.v.
the art of ping pong table plays
the audience yawns from their sofa blankets nodding off

to the road of now several blocks away:

trinkets shudder on the mantlepiece
tomorrow we'll wake up early
the lawn needs mowing again

a quiet man down the street sits cross-legged on his bedroom floor.
naked, he tears up the tribune and folds the scraps into little sailboats.

a nudge and a blow and they float like carnival hats to the front of the tub.