In ancient days, men followed monsters home,
and knocked on doors to netherworld chambers —
went kicking over the beast’s garden gnomes,
went barging around back like close neighbors.
Who chases monsters now-a-days, I ask?
Now, people let their demons come to them.
We’re too much prisoners to time on task,
and trips to the barber or the ATM.
And have our demons gone so far away?
Or have they vanished as we’d always hoped?
Or someone else is closer to the fray?
But have you seen them die on days they moped?
To meet or greet the demon at whose door?
It’s a question unknown in days of yore.
