The taxes nearly overdue—
they’re not, but nearly—whew!
That stupid thing I keep getting billed for
finally emailed on—again.
That phone I’ve never backed up
due to too many photos and gigs—
I finally paid the 99 cents—
will need 15 hours to do the deed;
I hope it can do that while I sleep
and still wake me on a million snoozed alarms.
That inexplicable ankle twinge
that had me limping to the car
is finally gone, I think.
The white exhaustion around my eyes,
faint wrinkles pulled taut by strain,
is bleaching and leeching my mojo muse.
The to-go order binge still sitting heavy
is stirring up bloat and guilt in equal parts.
I haven’t even gotten the mail out of the slot yet.
I will sleep—the gift of the gods;
I won’t dream—that other gift—not tonight,
but perhaps on the weekend
without appointments or class…
I mean classes, of course.
When it feels like phoning it in,
even though you’re not…