At high speed, celerity like forked swifts,
Fast tracked, and scarcely time for banks and breath,
The world does business, busier than you,
Though you can’t find your hat, your heart, your socks
Gone walkabout; and all the bees are bright,
Even as summer hollers like a kid.
Be not afraid. There’s nothing you can do.
The shadows swarm with life lived off the books,
And you all in the red. These are attacks,
Happily falling like a falling star.