Most folks around me seem to get along
without a daily dose of satisfaction,
so why do I believe it would be wrong
to go to bed before it? My reaction
to a day without a share of fun
is threaded with impatient discontent.
I work so hard I must have at least one
frisson of fun before the evening’s spent.

But I watch others – I am like a spy
at others’ play – and wonder: don’t they crave
discovery and pleasure? Well then why
proceed tonight so humorless and grave?
I may be missing something wise and deep,
but I can’t go from labor straight to sleep.