Friday/Near
Weekend Bliss
I
couldn't scrawl a poem
on
the way to work.
My
coffee corpse eyes
were
rolling down the
overflowing
river
and
my carpal tunnel
shocked
rollercoaster drop wrists
shook
like a swaying couple
at
an outdoor Alanis Morissette concert.
I
counted seconds at the stoplight
and
said a quick prayer today
would
go okay.
Now
that school is over
I
hear fireworks every night
knocking
on my window as
unemployed
birds wanting to
have
conversations about why
Gary
painted his house yellow or
about our
new mailman who rips open birthday cards.
I
don't keep track.
I
just sit in a windowless room
spewing
lines seven and a half
patrons
will read.
If
is worth anything, nowadays,
in
a jibber-jabber status update
satisfaction
of notifications
and
gas tank on E lemme fill up
'fore
it hits $4 a gallon again
and
neighbors crowd my lawn
to
discuss it and siphon
chewing
tobacco at me
as
I chug down coffee bits
in
my morning talk show routine
of
my own introversion.
Naomi (Lady) Mitchison -- Percy Wyndham Lewis