Work Week

Morning routine.


Make coffee.

Get dressed.

Climb down into the tube

and race into the dark.

Emerge to street level.

Buy breakfast,

coffee from smiling actress,

then into the box;

it is time to work.


Share ineffectual “Good Mornings”

with people not in your group.

Find workstation.

Dodge predatory glances

from too-interested co-worker

who can’t take the hint.

Emails, voicemails, schedule meetings.



No fat, low fat, no carb, high protein

shake, salad, smoothie;

“Oh, we can’t go there, I’m on a cleanse!”

Fuck it. Hit up the food truck.

Deep fried substitutions

for satisfying dopamine levels.

Back to the box

and it’s Friday afternoon.

That’s going to mean more work.


Meetings, presentations,

more fake smiles and salutations.

No one means a word.

Everyone has weekend plans.

Lining up babysitters

and tee-times

and coke dealers.

Fire up the rocket ship, Baby!

It’s Five O’clock!


Friday night.

Club scene.

No one knows.

No one cares.

Just watch your purse.

Watch your drink.

Watch your friends

and get home safe.

What a night.

Then Saturday and Sunday

blow by like that psychopathic ex

that you think you still like,

but after 5 minutes with them,

you want to be as far from them

as geography will allow.

Why did I like you again?




Alarm sounds.


Digging sleep out of the eyes

and wonder if every day is going to be like this?

Another rotation on this shit spattered hamster wheel?

You can only live once

If you live first.

The cost of success

is abject terror

and the death of normal.

This week will be different.


HG – 2016

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