Weekday Morning

 

The day is met like all the rest
and he still feels as out-of-place as always
odd shapes turn corners to leave with buses and taxis
exhaustion runs waterfall over him
the nail being hammered leans to one side
yet still awaits its fate

cold water from the yellowed porcelain
should awaken the senses
but leaves his eyes tacky and gummed with green crystals
this would be fine
except the nose hairs are all bent the wrong way
even a Kleenex does little for those stuck to the walls

the nose examines the crotch of yesterday’s slacks
cologne will cover that day and a collared blue shirt
beginning to stain slightly in the arm pits
even Tide couldn’t remove

a pirouette tells him everything is off
his shoes feel cool and comfortable
the wallet slides easily into the back pocket
the watch pinches off two arm hairs as it closes in place
the keys, both pairs, clang into pocket resentfully
his holster saddles him up and the gun is fastened within grasp
the badge is slid onto the belt
two Tylenol travel down his throat
along with five Vicodin;

"Breakfast at Yum-Yum’s, Lunch at Coco’s, back for frozen pizza and the baseball game, this might not be too bad..."

The refrigerator broke last night.