Monday morning

Monday morning
I wake up out of a sound sleep
and I feel dead

I'm hung over
I'm tired
I have this bile taste in my mouth

Monday morning piss
Monday morning shower
Monday morning runs
Monday morning cereal & cup of coffee
Monday morning shirt, pants, socks, shoes

Drive my girlfriend to her job downtown
that she hates but can't quit because
it pays our bills

Monday morning driving back for some
reason I see cops cops cops cops
cops cops
I suppose I should feel safe
but why are there so many cops out
on Monday morning?

I get home, parking being a breeze
Monday morning runs again
My stomach feels like I have a boot in it

So here I am now
sitting by the window at the table
in the kitchen

Ready to make my endless phone calls
and I can't take it anymore

I grab the empty coffee cup
and I huck it out the window

It soars through the air
smashing against the neighbors brick wall
just across the way
their kitchen window shoots open
and they look at me

I wave at them
wordlessly, they wave back

I begin to make my phone calls


SF
1993