Too Much Weekend
I’ll like my week better for a tidy room
A golden rose cheerfully in a crystal tube
But with a day spent alone
Working on streams distant from the streams of others
I yearn for the strains of the world outside
If I had a TV, I would switch it on
I’m glad I don’t
It would not give me what I want
The compulsive tug of collective movement
People going somewhere, maybe nowhere
Do I mind our destination when we move together?
I’m ready to join the surging throngs of people in the morning
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