73.

Why is it the poplar leaves turn in the sun

And catch it like water or fish, while I am

Too dull to do anything but drudge

And miss out on you. One day I will

Awaken, even though I have known

My fault all this time, and find you gone.

For a walk, or, never to return,

To another place not even science knows.

Why did we devise an economy

That makes us all slaves, some more, some less,

That drives people to sleep in the streets

Or others, more privileged, to bury themselves

In accounts, poems and profits, and neglect

The ones they love, who often dwell in fictions