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
