in the house of grandfathers
the dusty old flowers sit around
fishing for smiles
sometimes they read stories to themselves
from torn yellowed pages
and it is amusing for a while
but they know why I come

it looks like hard work old man
and no one to lend a hand
except well meaning girls
coming like hornets with their stingers
getting in your way with cylinders
tubes and see-through tents

it seems to me if you were home
you'd be done with your labor
and resting already