At supper he whispers something in your ear,
the Judas boy, who wants you.
We go to the garden where it’ s cool
From my place against the tree
I see you through the window,
watch as you walk from door to desk,
reach into your pocket,
pull out your wallet, empty it and leave it by the lamp,
pick up a pen, lean over to write, then don’ t,
take something heavy from the drawer, put it back
then sweep the money into a paper bag.