"Why don't you talk like a normal man Marcel?"
they said as I waited for my bread and jam.
"You're prolix and self-absorbed, and a drone as well
and your attitude seems effete and a thorough sham."
"All that nostalgic crap won't pay the rent,
get up and go. Your cupboard will be bare
after the time you've wasted. The years you spent
watching yourself. It's time to work your share."
People so simple have no other role
than to create a world where I may be
central to all their industry. My soul
suffers from any harsh cacophony.
Every part of myself has been explored;
how could a man so fortunate be bored?
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