A poem on distractions, rituals and routines.

I'm holed up in the department of motor vehicles with several smelly men who reek of frustration.
The natural instinct would be to follow suit and not allow for anyone to spot the wolf among the sheep.
This is where I start to say no 50 times.
This is my comfort zone. This is where I revel.
I pull up my task manager.
I run through my reading list. 
I run through my tasks.
I focus. And I do. 
In 10 minutes my number comes up. 
And it's done. 
It's my personal personal rule of thumb. 
Put myself in a squeeze. Then focus. Then do my own thing. Be myself. Be the wolf. 
The thing about wolves is that they live on purpose.
When the sheep be " What can I do about it" 
The wolves? they don't talk. They just do.