People Wanting the Thing They Can't Quite Have

In a lucky hour, at the world's end somewhere,
I stumbled on a mushrooming thunderstorm
And was glad. Tomorrow is payday. The rest
Is silence. No, silence is not. The clouds close,

And the wind picks up around the leaky house
I bought from the bank and the man who built it.
He lives in a schoolhouse, now. The bank sold out
To a bigger bank. All the Nilometers

Employed by the pharaonic priests of Egypt
Only kept priests in business for, at the most,
Their own lives. Happiness must measure what's left.