recognizable beer brands under a single concern.
—nytimes.com
Sometimes it works
and sometimes
we have to pour it all down the sink.
Smoky apparitions hover at or near the ceiling in witness.
Then we frolic from hillock to hillock,
straightening our hunchbacks along the way.
A glorious turn of events, waking up
covered in sweat:
it’s the fear of monotony. The ennui-swathed alarm
plays a new song by Madonna. We dance ourselves
out of the bed and into the shower,
dawn. Another minute and we’re late for yoga
or something. Who remembers?
But the nice part
is how the fork got stuck in my head.
“Who needs hope?”
“Why, we do, silly!”
“Shall I send a revised meeting planner for the full ninety minutes?”
“Absolutely,” he smirks,
placing his laptop on the corner of the sofa,
the most comfortable corner.
