Some kind of craftsman is working at his bench Peeling ribbons of soft wood under a dim lamp He watches the growing pile of discarded strips.
The timecard is now an electronic monitor An old woman at the factory wishes That it were instead a thick piece of yellowing cardstock So that she could use a hole punch.
Somebody’s daughter is dancing naked in the yard A business man drives by and hopes that somebody will photograph her. He is remembering the blush on his lover’s face When he first saw the photo of her and her sisters Flat chested, unclothed, and splashing together in the bath.
The waitress from town has left for school. Somebody there is brushing the hair away from her eyes And wondering whether or not it is a good moment to kiss her. Meanwhile there is a young man sitting in his regular spot in her diner Wondering if her eyes really were the color of the winter grass He is contemplating joining the army.
A wiry beggar is sitting outside of a convenience store He asks for a cigarette and gets not even a sideward glance Later he asks a thin, young thing for a few dollars Once she is gone he goes inside to buy a pack And smokes them immediately.
There is a funeral processional going through town. There is a woman at the end driving with clenched hands She feels guilty because of her anger But the traffic is making her late for work.
You may now kiss the bride. And he does. The older women are crying.
Without any of these things It seems we would be left with nothing,