11.24.2008

Here's the poem I wrote for the Real Dream Cabaret's performance at the Burchfield Penney opening. It's ok if you laugh or even cringe... it's supposed to be bad and overly long.

Monday

Monday rolls in like a 1973 Ford Pinto
And rides like it hasn’t had a tuneup
Since before my soul turned inky black
And began to reek
With the stench of conformity
With the stench of mediocrity
With the stench of acquiescence
Or perhaps it’s the stench of off-brand instant coffee
A garishly labeled plastic jar of powder
Waiting for the rush of boiling water
That will finally justify its existence
Ground and pulverized like my inky black soul
Seeping through my fingers and onto the kitchen floor
For the dog to sniff before losing interest and walking away
To lick itself in places we think obscene
Monday smells like a freshly opened can of Alpo
Sharp tin edges threaten tender flesh of fingertips
Sharp tin odor threatens my very sanity
Monday drops by unannounced
And overstays its welcome
Puts muddy feet on the expensive upholstery of my dreams
Leaving a mark no Oxy-Clean will ever remove
And no Sham-Wow will ever dry
Monday feels like salt and vinegar potato chips on a paper cut
Take your search for comfort to some other day
Lazy Sunday perhaps, or Industrious Thursday
You’ll find no comfort here
For Monday is a harsh mistress
Her steely gaze and icy grip promise little and deliver nothing
Monday tastes like desperation
Yet the lonely gorge themselves at her banquet table of despair
Then oh so discretely ask to be excused
So they can purge in the restroom
And return for yet another course
It’s all you can eat, baby
But the tray of roasted garlic mashed potatoes
Is always
Empty
Monday is the teacher of hard truths
And we her unwilling pupils
It’s 8 a.m. and Monday comes roaring into town
Sounding like the mother of all snooze alarms
She’ll sell you another ten minutes
But you’ll only be ten minutes closer to losing your god damn mind
Monday makes awkward banter on slow-moving elevators
And whispers breakroom tales of weekend conquest
Sexual or otherwise
And it’s almost always otherwise

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