There is a comfort
To the morning register shift.
The early risers come to and from their coffee
In the yawning light,
Two dollars, a dollar ten, eighty cents
Impatient in hand,
And I know they want a newspaper--
The Sentinel, or The Times, the slim Wallstreet Journal--
As quickly as possible,
Never mind the pennies.
I really have no idea what people want the rest of the time,
Just that we are running heavy
With everything we want to spend.
