By Joshua Robert Long

I wake up
every Friday
and walk into the
kitchen

joints all stiff
and the walls
like myself
feel less of the
youth as we
meander through
the coffees and
rituals

there’s always a fear
about the bank

a fear of who’s taking what
now

I talk in my head
to the debt

it worries me
like a relief pitcher

* * *

Saturdays don’t feel
very different from
Fridays

except that there’s exhaustion
coming out through
the hydrants

another night to rest
the head

Sunday all vacant

we’re all pretty vacant
until Sunday

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