Too Early to be Late, a poem about success

Too Early to be late

It’s too early to get up

but there’s so much to do.

Can’t keep going like this but he

Has to.

All about the money and

These nice things he has.

Maybe he’ll try to lower

His class.

Tired of decisions about

Everything from clothes to food.

It’d be great if they’d tell him what

To do.

But that’s no good either.

Hates bosses, hates wives.

Says he wants to be his own man.

He lies.

Ten years old, he dreamt big.

Wanted pirate gold.

Now he just wants to be

Left alone.

No driving a firetruck

No flying to Mars.

He’s just a salesman, hocking

Used cars.

But something inside him

Demands a change.

Something that’s rising with

His age.

Could he get by with less if he

Could find a way?

What does he really need to be


He sells the house and the car

In an impassioned rush.

He quits his job and buys a furnished

Used bus.

He drives a while and finds

Easy money, easy jobs.

He makes ends meet for him and

his dog.

He’s feeling good and moral

And calm these days.

But he admits he misses his high-

Class ways.

He’d give his left foot for a

Decent cut of steak.

And he starts to wish he had a spouse

Some days.

Just someone to share a

Little domestic chat.

That goes deeper than asking “Where’s your

“Home at?”

So he’s checking the want ads and

Browsing real estate rags.

A job might be boring but its something

To have.

He feels intangible now like

He might drift off and away.

So he’s planting some roots, finding

A place.

The bus’ll sell easy- There’s always

Someone like him with a dream.

Who doesn’t know yet what it means to



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