The only thing I’m sure of these days
Is that I have a paper route I must follow gingerly.
I am the man that time forgot – am I?
No bother, brother adsorbing water for tea.
I crept around the stockade façade
Hoping to escape something or other
But I was caught in the public’s eye.
I just deliver news, I said. Don’t shoot
The wrong messenger. The public shot
Me a glance that must have meant disapproval,
But I was doing the jumble into a beehive,
Which wanted to quibble about its bill.