A slow Monday after a
nice weekend
Hold on. Let me give
it to you
like a surprise.....
A slow Monday
morning after a lovely autumn
weekend full of apologies.
Like
sorry I might be writing a poem.
And thinking about that can be
a mess without an apology.
Like
this bed. Or my nose
running
(but I’m sorry, I promise).
A
box of Kleenex, though, be-
cause you are always prepared.
In hopes.
It’s
two weeks to the day
since I’ve seen you.
Pretty good,
huh? The worn stack
of Post-Its,
Blistex (of all brands & sizes). I
check to see if there are any stamps.
Of course there are stamps (always
prepared). A drink
with Don (the
retired priest) and Josh (his cousin).
And Fred. On Mondays,
in the cube
next to mine, they go on all day about
the weekend and its parties and party-
ing. All apparently
drunken. And
before too long (sometimes almost
immediately, sometimes years later?)
we are back to another weekend.
And like always, unless I’m very
careful, it’s always filled with
so much more time than
I actually have.
