A man sits alone in a double seat, balancing
the things we all do, some better than others.
One of the better ones, he has something to add
confidently, in pen.
Strokes of precision, elegant in pencil and grid,
now lines bow to mundanity, proving existence
in receipts for bread,
milk, and eggs.
Loosely rolled, plans sit in an empty seat
waiting, as he works upon an accordion file desk.