by Kristina England
I have the second day blues.
Woke feeling used and abused.
Don’t tell me the work week
is here – to get up, get up.
What if I went on strike?
Called in sick?  Stayed in bed?
Curled up in a pink nightgown
or some oversized sweats?
What if I didn’t shower,
walked around with bedhead?
What if I wore a baseball cap,
drank from the milk bottle,
left egg-caked dishes in the sink,
dirty laundry piled on the floor?
What would you say?
Would you make a fuss?
Would you call up Sunday,
ask her to make a return?
Convince her to extend
her hours of operation?
Knowing you, you’d go about your day
counting the hours like a good worker,
punch out when time was up,
grab your keys, and leave.
Then night would stop in to stifle
my gripes until Tuesday arrived.

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