What Is A Sunday?

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.

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Filed under Poems

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