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Weekends

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I love sleepy Saturday mornings
and the way Billy Joel sings “chev-er-o-let”
and Keeps the Faith unfailingly
through the night
while I dry my eyes from
an illogical crying spree
only two minutes long,
but devastating to the pillows
good thing it’s a Friday night
Laundry Day is Thursday, and Mother’s eyes are too sharp
she will interrogate and worry
I think I will use the salty pillowcase
paint it blue and red and green
and make Art
the shifting substance of which
now consumes my thoughts, devouring my exhaustion
through the night
my brain works overtime again as too often
tomorrow will be, assuredly,
another sleepy Saturday



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