Sometimes it’s hard to tell
It’s Friday or nearly Friday
& already I’m planning
scheming my eventual escape
from this nondescript place
The hummingbirds have returned
& although I’ve tried
they won’t speak to me
leading me to broker communication
via the dominant wren
or the neighbor’s cat called Sue
Where were you when I needed
you the most I rhetorically
& repeatedly ask the mirror
This constant appearing
& disappearing act is for the birds
especially when unassociated
with the changing of the seasons
I look over my shoulder
& all I see is Thursday
blankly staring me in the face
maybe laughing or maybe crying
may two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
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