Previously Published in Down in the Dirt . . .

 

I Hate

          waking up an hour before my alarm; forgetting

to put coffee in the filter, turning the pot on anyway; watching

the perky morning news(?) caster with her maniacal

smile and hair that never moves; waiting

for the traffic report that will inevitably re-route me

miles out of my way.

          crunching cruet de tat at my desk

as I work through lunch in hopeful attempt to climb

out from under the pile of folders, notes, to-do lists

threatening to bury me alive; the incessant chings,

dings, rings of electronic communications waiting

for response.

          squeezing in a run on a belted human hamster wheel

to counteract my increasing waistline tht has absolutely no

regard for my constant attempts to count calories; my limited

closet and budget that makes the former a necessity.

          finally climbing into comforting embrace of pillow

and bed to find no hope of sleep on the horizon; that my mind

won't shut out yesterday's drama, today's catastrophes, 

or the possibilities of tomorrow's crises; that right

at the precipice of complete exhaustion, the muse deigns to visit

and remind me of the price of daring to have even one

selfish dream of my own.