I forgot it was the weekend
Feeling years pass by like I’m Peter Pan
Fill my coffee cup, straighten up my belt buckle
Sit and linger, wringing fingers over chapped knuckles
Never been so close to forever
Thoughts could build bridges but caught acting clever
Only notice the weather as light through a pane
Thank God, free of apologies, free of envy and shame
A private cacophony cuts through the quiet
Mutiny anxiety, hear the song of a siren
Violence in my typing, laying waste my senses
Barely making a dent in searching for my ascendance
Now I’ve never had less to prove
Baking bread til I’m dead or I’m destitute
Press executive function to execute
Picking up Roberta’s in a pressure suit

We keep clean for full screen convenings
We’re phone-holders, doom-scroll through evenings
Remote chances float over all
At home I’ve grown small
Alone on phone calls

Surprised I haven’t cried yet
Heavyweight prizefighter, height of my prime, bet
My income set, meals are square,
Few more weeks left til I need to cut my hair
All semblance of momentum stuttered
I run past the dark glass and endless shutters
Circumvent pedestrians, hug the gutters
And cut back to compacted snacks and clutter
I just hope we get summer, maybe a month
With some greater scope than smoking out front
Stuck on repeat imagine relief
In subway cards, clubs and bars, booths and seats
Then back to these walls, back to shelved books
Back to canned groceries, back to Tom Nook
Back to the plans all laid best for me
I’ve got a Zoom meeting with destiny