This Monday morning I rise
after sleeping until nine--from nine--
fold the southwestern print blanket
brown and tan and orange and blue--
my comfort--
fold the plaid blanket
and the white sheets with their blue stripes,
stop to play the blanket game with the cat,
and fold the futon into a couch once more.
I replace the displaced bicycles
feed the cat
go through my workout
relieve myself
and all of this before dressing.
I read Billy Collins poetry in my underpants
and then
I sit to write a poem
about this Monday morning.
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Time travelers, you have a new assignment.
4 hours ago
2 comments:
Southwestern print blanket. Ya'll are such boys. I can't do anything until I'm fully dressed, with or without a smile (usually without--I consider it an accessory).
Well, it used to drape over a chair I hated at home, and one day when I was sick I took it off and took it to my room, and I've kept it ever since. That was probably ten years ago.
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