If I live to seventy then there’s
three thousand
six hundred
and fifty
of these …
blues days after Sundays after
weekends gone by.
Too many lost to history and
sentiments and
new beginnings as I lie
fearing
the week ahead
that is a gift
if I can survive
the nonsense in my head
because of what Boomtown said:
“I don’t like Mondays” or
“better off dead”.
The better to ask:
should I listen to a Rat?
or should I listen to Reason?
or to what Epicurus cried:
“live every Monday like a Saturday night”
or to what the Buddha oft advised:
wake-up child and sing, “hello life!”