Do my Monday ones
reek of eulogies to days
just died? Funeralistic
in their recollections weighted
to the struggling days ahead.
Where Friday’s poems seem to
slide out upbeat and freeing.
Prison-break and party-themed
stanzas that invite lock-pickers and
getaway drivers, bartenders and
a few friends for a fun weekend
At this point, I must shut down my pen
and run over to the gala
preferring not to face
its inevitably
messy
conclusion
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