It is everyday after dinner
I lose sleep on problems
Many a book by side
If I were a poet I'd give my life for creativity

She fixes my flat for free food at three
Someday she'll be ignoring how I curl asleep
A despot comes to ask me pay my dues
True, we might be leaving very soon

If I loved her, I would formulate a lie
She is my friend in the darkest dream
Guiding me to the hour I'll wake up the trees facing the midnight gale

My heart wants sleep with the wooden puppets
The strings of stars carry the leaves
They bid farewell
As I remember they should say hello, should I dwell

I read the paper
Revise the news
Watch televised ads
And eat commercialised food
My life is on the radio

First they tell you to marry
Then they ask you to find the right one
Or let them choose
They don't know what they are doing
Because you want to be someone else

Such are my dinner ruminations that never make the table