Monday

everybody is sighing monday sighs

and drinking monday coffees

on monday trains

to monday desks

with papers stacked like sunday pancakes.

I go to work

hungover

and sore-

there's a bruise on my elbow shaped like Kansas-

and drink my soy latte

for the protein

and the caffeine

and to have something to do.

I'm staring at my monday stack of sunday pancake papers

and sighing

squinting

and getting white-out on my thumbs.

Somebody is yelling at somebody else on a phone in an office and

I'm pretty sure the entire building can hear.

So it goes. A ticking clock, and a cold coffee, and the words

that I keep in my head all day.

At least come 5'o'clock,

I'll sigh another monday sigh

and get on another monday train

and crack my knuckles all the way home thinking of Friday, and beer,

music and smoke

and

the sad irony of Mademoiselles: Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.