The consequence of dreaming,
Between the blood-shot weekdays,
Is too dark to admit I’m afraid:

That there is a better lost in the status quo
Like a dryer sheet in a load of laundry;

That there is a possible lurking just out of reach
Like a jar of peanut butter stuck up on the highest shelf;

Or even—yes even—that a happiness can be caught
Like a chase after the bus that came two minutes early.

Oh, friend. I hate to disappoint you as you wade through coffee and the news in your bedroom slippers by the fire—

But the consequence of dreaming is dire.
And so we had best stick to the humdrum—
Never changing our habits or the channel again.