Hollow Man Poem by Bill Cantrell

Chip on his shoulder
No strings for his shoes
Wife is working dawn to dusk,
While he sits home singing blues
Always feeling chipper,
When the weekend comes around
Yet, when it's time for working,
His body's broken down
Stays up watching late late shows,
At lunch, he wakes from sleep
He leaves his wife a pyramid,
Of dishes in the sink
With grace he buys her roses,
With the money that she's saved,
She says she's just too tired to cook,
He says, you need a maid