Naked and Starved
Not so action action action the mundane is where the real living is. In the waking up slow and leftover pots of coffee too busy for the dishes for the laundry for the calendar that hangs on the fridge reading February when September is finally ending. Long lines for the things you need. Short lines for what you don’t. Conversations of weather rather than whether you might get to see the rain again. Not so much action action action so that when there is some you can lean back and go, ‘Damn, now that’s some action.’ Then a page or two of time back to factory settings what clothes should I wear what’s for dinner what’s that smell I’m out of clean socks no clean plates someone should really take out that trash. And when enough of those pages turn, and the days pile up, one rolls around that leaves me standing naked and starved waiting on the street with a hefty bag in hand for either the morning garbage route or the rain whichever comes first.
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