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Click hereDrowsy Monday drags its feet
Three busses came and passed
Five people are still standing at the curb.
Five people have inched together
Three seats are wet and cold
One pink hatted lady smiles.
One paper’s crying troubles in the land
Three potholes looming large,
Better to be moving in this sardines packing bus.
Where was the anger management? All I saw was controllling manipulative and abusive one sided relations between the wife and the rest of the victims in her family.
I am sorry, but I found this story mostly irritating by the gross inaccuracies of the 'therapy'. The clichés in those sessions almost gave me a skin rush… The amazingly submissive and repressed, yet presumably mostly "happy" and “stable” husband was another major irritant on my list. And he is the one who takes care of this whole family! Of all the characters he is the one who should have been sent on a most urgent basis to seek help. First task: learning how to stop being a victim to an abusive spouse.
'One paper’s crying troubles in the land
Three potholes looming large',are refering to the presidential primaries?
You have such a knack for entering the moment...and turning it inside out, so the rest of us can enter it, too! Splendid!!
You know...this must be why I abhor public transportation!
This work is so evocative of mornings I remember. Takes me back. I love writing that takes me back. Take me back some more!
live my whole life without MONDAYS !!
But then by blonde philosophy, Tuesday
would be the new Monday, and Wednesday
the new Tues, on and on, {you get the point}.
You did however get to the point of,
blah Mondays, the same old world news,
shivering winters, and the dredded bus ride.
I will think of you now on Mondays, at 8:05am.
;)
sGp
It's very interesting to me how you say so many things without saying them. The weather, sense of location, a contrast between cloudy, cold and wet, and the lady in the pink hat who smiles. I also noticed the 5, 3, 3, 5 enumeration... which adds up to eight in the first two stanzas, of course. Monday drags its feet, but it's still a numbers game. Bus didn't smell so good, apparently! *smile*
Good poem. I like your descriptions -- the snapshot of life. This poem was mentioned on the new poems thread, which you know. It just took me a day to get around to making a comment here. :)
God I remember mornings like that when the wind feels like it's straight from Siberia and the rain gets in everywhere and by the time you get to work you look and feel like a drowned rat
Sounds like a recipe for the 'Perfect Monday' where all of life's bad moments come together to make a bad day worse.