maybe he’s taken up tray planting
snipping tiny bits to shape his bonsai
placing the pre-grown moss around its base
perhaps he will focus more on his drinking
starting at 10 in the Spoons
metronoming between his barstool
and smoking spot in the doorway
he could have an OnlyFans account
sending his sweaty boxers in sealed glass bottles
at £150 a pop to filthy old men
or even a job at the zoo hosing down the sides of elephants
heaving the shovel under the enormous turds
& allowing his arm to be entwined by their trunks when they show signs of anxiety
more likely he got another accounting job
rolling through the same shizzle
locked for 9 hours a day in a dark cubicle
for a pay check that only just covers his basic
needs
his heart braying extra hard at quarter ends
playing an eerie tune to the rest of his weary organs
on the xylophone of his ribs
