what now

he looks at his gold watch.
his
rings.
his house, the one here,
the one
at the shore.
his fourth wife
in the yard
on the phone,
stretched out in a chair
doing her nails.
he looks at his boat
in the driveway.
the three cars in
the three car garage.
the sub zero fridge is empty.
water beer
leftovers in sterile
white boxes.
the Viking stove, cold
and clean.
he sees himself
in the black glass
of the patio door
and touches the lines
in his face.
he stretches and yawns
at the sun
peeking over
the pool.
it's early too early
in the day,
but too late
to figure out what
went wrong. what to do.