Matilda has been rolling cigarettes all morning.
Her fingers are nimble and pinching
"We're going out tonight," she says,
And I don't know what that means.

"But I have to work late again," I say,
But to Matilda, that does not matter.
Matilda does not mind.

Peter has been pacing around all morning.
His feet are bare and his toes are flinching
"I'm going to lose it tonight," he says,
And I don't know what that means.

"But you've tried so hard to keep it," I say,
But to Peter, this is meaningless chatter.
Peter has lost his mind.