Things to Do on Tuesday

Start your car.
Go to work.
Get caught in traffic jam.

Try to pretend you’re not
looking at the Route 1
traffic psychos screaming road rage
through rolled up windows,
car doors locked.

Wait for the elevator.
Say “Hello, Hello, Good Morning.
I’m fine. How are you?”

Get off on the third floor.
See a friend you love,
but are unable to connect
with because the vast gulf
of this building and daily drivel,
pass between you, making a soup
of fog too thick to cross.

Turn on the light, the computer.
Tap. Tap. Tap.

Have conversations.
Go to meetings.
Curl yourself up
to hide from the artillery
of petty attacks. Next time
it might be you.

Eat lunch.
Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three o’clock. Staying calm.
Drink cold water, yawn,
stretch, go to the bathroom.

Leave office. Start your car.
The traffic psychos are looser
now, swaggering. It’s Miller time.

Home. Dinner.
Pay a bill. Fight about money.
Clean a spill, read a story,
give a bath, call Mother,
kiss a boo-boo.

Get in bed and think
about how much you love
that bed, pillows so soft
and compromising.

Open a book, dive in
to the refreshing words.
Remember your name,
remember who you are
just so you can willingly
lose yourself, float
through another world
until someone says

“Aren’t you ever going to turn off the light?”

And you do.
And you try to sleep.