Poetry

9.

The Smiths play loud as I sit down,
and I walk this road to new sounds
with sarcastic guitar in my ears.
The se(cond/venth) game of solitaire taunts me from the screen,
and I don’t want to be mean
but me, I think I need to do something at least a little more productive.
It may not be too deductive of me to say so,
but I’ve noticed that all my fingers do
is click mouse buttons
and grab food to chew.
There’s a lopsided logic to my laziness –
some days pass by in a haze of work and worry,
and I want to slip into a flurry of mindless tedium.
The 2 cartwheels to the ace, and a 3 may follow,
and I’m swallowing my pride
on this stagnant ride –
my mind’s tires have all gone
flat today.

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