If You Have an Enemy
If you have an enemy, picture him asleep.
Notice his shoes at the foot of the bed,
how helplessly they gape there.
Some mornings he needs three cups of coffee
to wake up for work,
and there are evenings when he drinks alone,
reading the paper down to the want ads,
the arrival times of ships at the docks.
Think of him choosing a tie,
dialling wrong numbers,
finding holes in his socks. Chances are
his emptiness equals yours
When you thoughtlessly hurry a cashier
for change, or frown to yourself
in rush hour traffic and the drivers behind you
begin to remind you
the light has turned green.