Drive Soft, the Light Fades

One who would not do one thing
Danced in his sleep where he sat
And dreamed of how he’d steal words,

And not try to save his life.
He might drown in his own spit.
He might wake up dead and small

And find that he does not care.
He might read a book, a line
Like a life line, and take it

And haul on it, as if this
One act could pull him to shore,
Out of his dream to the day.