& you wonder

Just what is it they do?
those little boxes lit by harshlight
looking in through the window
ants making look busy shapes
some taking self important phone calls
others madly intent on bits of paper
like as a child looking through the parent gap
while asking; is jim in?
seeing different shapes of furniture
odder funkier brighter smells than home
fathers sat in chairs reading doing other
figures heading to motel rooms
late at night crabbed under load
doors slammed to what?
just what is it that they do
in these rooms
separated from each other
by glass concrete stud walls?
while we watch from out here

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