(x = space)

x

x

Panic of 1819

(and probably in ancient Rome and every Friday since)

x

I don’t have it yet

It’s Friday

I don’t have it

x

In a suburban way,

I want

To have earned the weekend

x

Bad night last night

Today’s not much better

Except I’m awake

If duly

And can

More practically

Resort

To caffeine, should I wish

x

But there is

Something better

I am sure

Something to find my spirit

In the rut

If not a hole

And pull me through

x

It’s feelings

It’s truncated thoughts

And more

A weight of sin

Perhaps

Though don’t we bear that

Every day?

x

Well,

Design

And draft away

And with a shape

Construct

A frame

Add more materials

For texture

And color as that matters much

On Earth

x

And get it done

For presentation

Monday

By five

Or six

Or seven

Then find our friends

Beside what we call

Colloquially

The watering hole

That other creatures need

The literal

More direly

x

But let’s go in

And break

Exhale

Find solace

Even in this world

In trust

x

Or

You know

We could go home

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Daniel Gregoire on Unsplash

x

curated in “Friday clouds”; looking like mountains—Friday mountains?—with the moon an evening invitation

x