I covered all my shit with a rug made of work and thoughts. The pile got bigger but I made sure no one could see.
Then a boy appeared, sat next to me. A fan, I forgot about, started spinning around crazily.
A whirlwind, it blew the rug off, and now all that’s gone by is twirling in the air.
What am I to do? Where am I to go? I only have 2 roads, and one I’ve been down before.
I don’t want to shut the fan off. It’s been quiet for so long.
I’ll hire a man to help me catch the garbage, one by one, with a net, and then toss it out or store it away.
So the boy can stay&play, the winds blow, the windmills spin.
The air shall be clean again, and shit will sit still.