The Stock Take
(©2016 John T. Windle/Vaudeville John)

There comes time in another man's life
to visit the dirty lake.
Peering in, the light is dim
and finding it opaque.
A ripple ribbon hints the mirror
has made a mistake.
The abyss staring back at him;
The annual Stock Take.

Balance sheet sitting at his feet,
looking heavy; the left side.
"Get back what you put in"
but there's no box for pride.
Enter in more social contracts?
cast contacts aside?
Expansion or seclusion,
has to decide.

Animals have got it good;
eat, defecate, mate, survive.
Then again, thinks of his friends
so glad that he's alive.
Grubs writhe in their hexagons,
investments of the hive;
starting sweet and then to sting
as futures collide.

  Warehouse; full of memories;
  aisles of racks, in cherished categories.
  Quantity versus value to the family tree.
  What could he really ever give from this inventory?

     Will the conscious taxwoman ever get her fill?
     He hopes she will.
     Free to the winds, sleeping in hammocks.
     Bad laws rescinded because of the havoc.
     Artistic explosions, parties, singing,
     wakes from the dream, morning's bringing

reviews of numbers
in the year that he has spent;
rows, lows, columns and sums,
digits just won't relent.
Rubbing head, scratching his arms,
make everyone content.
Sealing hope, an envelope
of his final statement.


©2016 John T. Windle/Vaudeville John