jdubqca

voluntary rejuvenation

there’s nothing wrong with me
as i hit the snooze button
for the third time
stare at the cobweb on the ceiling fan
wondering where the spider is.

outside i hear mickey’s silverado
start up and head down the street.
it must be seven-thirty-five.

a few hours later i get out of bed
walk over to the window
and draw the shade
another half inch.

i spend the next ten minutes
sitting on the shitter.
i check my email on my android
and play a few pinball games.

“hey boss this is johnson,” i say,
talking into my boss’s android.
“listen, something’s come up,
i won’t be in today…or tomorrow….
actually i won’t be back until thursday.

“there’s nothing wrong with me
so don’t call back
and i’ll see you on thursday.”

i finish my business in the bathroom
and make my way back to bed,
excited about the idea
of doing nothing
for three more days.





author’s note:
this poem is in response to charles bukowski’s oral dissertation on depression


august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved