Let the records show
This day began two weeks ago.
It was a cold day in Hell; I know this because
I said, "Wake up when? Hah, that'll be a cold day in --"
So there's that.
Breakfast was a hasty banana in the pre-dawn
And a cup of Cheerios; those spilled.
The first week was purely classes
One I skipped, but it still nibbles at my nerves
With guilt-sharp tiny teeth
Since Meredith probably spotted me
Lurking in the hall
Debating the merits of playing hooky.
C'est la vie, I thought and threw my hands in the air.
I'll take the chance.
The second week was the consistency of tapioca
I mean -- it consisted of tapioca. Coconut-smashing, pot stirring,
adding up the Band Aids as hours went by.
By the time it was done
I had to eat it, just to recapture the life-force it had stolen.
Dishes, then,
and I was bushed, beat, shot, stick-a-fork-in weary
lots of other stuff, but thesauruses are heavy. use your imagination.
Ready to roll off to bed
Crash-land in pillow land
But I have to write this poem first.
...@#$%!
No comments:
Post a Comment