"Turnover" by Lawrence Bridges
Turnover
I stole time from work until work would not support
leisure, stepping on cushions of words in a city of thin
air, sitting in a car as if listening to metal radio, an inert
and noble music from a separate world. Now into
poverty and solace as the story unfolds. I wake
consuming my kitchen. I set down my burden ready to
die under this spell, tentatively adorning the canyons and
receding from the stars. I realize that all these years
sleep has been a waste.