The Meek


I live alone.                   
                    In a cramped apartment.                   
                    On a forgotten floor.                   
                    In a run-down building.
                    In a shanty town. 
                    In a shanty town.                                     
                                                Where I can't look up.                                      
                                                And I won't look down.                                     
                                                And where I live                                                  
so I can keep what I have,                                 
                                        which isn't much,                                                  
                                                              I am afraid,                                
                                        not much at all.  
A few old books. 
A black and white TV,                           
                                    a broken up bed                           
                                    with a rotten mattress.  
And an old lighter                        
                           which I found                                      
                                                    long ago,                        
                           and that doesn't work,                                                
                                                          sorry to say.     
But it gives me                     
                        a sense...                                
                                           of class.                     
                       Just a touch                                  
                                           of class,                     
                       a mere hint                                  
                                          of class.                                           

And I don't smoke.    


I walk in small steps. 
I drink in little sips. 
I don't rush things. 
I don't tempt fate. 
I can afford to be patient. 
I can afford the wait. 
Yes. I can afford the wait.  

So I don't take risks. 
I don't play the odds. 
I don't push the limits. 
And I make uneventful  my days, 
and work in predictable ways.     
Very predictable ways.  
Easily predictable ways.  

I die a little bit at a time. 
Just a little bit at a time. 
Only a tiny bit at a time. 
I can afford the wait. 
Yes. I can afford the wait. 
Death is never late. 
Never late.    


The relief worker said                            
                                  by tomorrow                                        
                                                    I will be dead. 
They got to me                    
                        too late,                              
                                    it seems. 
But then,               
              that has always been                                    
                                                my fate. 
Life just happens                       
                        to me. 
                                 And keeps on happening
                                                                       to me.  
And now...