The Milkman

The laughter has ceased

(Gone into the next room with the

deodorants

Following close behind

On the heels of continence) :

But that is the trouble

With our world-

That laughter is sick,

Leaving the mind

Tired the morning after

When the cold grey

Feeling of the flesh

Becomes exigent

And the period arrives

With no exclamation-

Only grey bottles

Upon the doorsteps of our lives.