Monday, September 15, 2014

(I HATE MONDAYS)

Don't even—think
of consecrating 

the idea—by daring
to speak

it—out 
loud 
in cold gloom; 

just—first 
have coffee

alone—in your curtain-
dark
kitchen, 

listen—but distractedly
to blunt piano

chords looming
and 

wreathing—like the steam 
rising-
up from your coffee—

so delicately
all around 
your chintzy clock radio,

and then—finally 
just forget 

whatever 
it is—I was saying.

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