if Monday was productive
It would be Tuesday instead.
If Tuesday were called “Hump day”
Maybe we’d want to get out of bed.
If the end was in sight on Wednesday
We would enjoy it more.
If after Thursday was a weekend
It would not be such a snore.
Saturday’s a Friday
During which we needn’t work,
But Sunday is what Saturday
Would be if it were a jerk.
On Sunday we do nothing
Just like on Saturday,
Except our nothing is interrupted
By our freedom sneaking away.
We’re filled to our proverbial brim
With end-of-weekend anxiety.
That is what a Sunday is,
Or maybe that’s just me.
