You might watch him, right now! At the office, when nobody s around. You might possibly see a rosary of pearls. Little tongues crossing his beard. And it s strange but confirms that old theory about time: Each day you exist you have more crowns to clean.
So there he is, in the ill empty hall. Vainly trying to wipe his grieved soul. Feeling like a midnight queen of the house but knowing tomorrow it will be more than a crown. And it s strange but, at least for a while, I like that man, that fat boy that sweats and could be me.