This Monday morning I rise
after sleeping until nine--from nine--
fold the southwestern print blanket
brown and tan and orange and blue--
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
and all of this before dressing.
I read Billy Collins poetry in my underpants
I sit to write a poem
about this Monday morning.
Fine: be that way, Mr. Raccoon.
1 day ago