There’s nothing really pressing;
I spend an hour deciding when
It’s worth the trouble dressing.
I set the coffee up last night,
And eggs and toast await;
But all that shit is down a flight:
I’ll be a little late.
The outfit I took off last night
I’ll wear again today,
And expedite the odor fight
With shots of Febreze spray.
I’m at my desk to meet my doom
(It happens every day)
As fifteen other folk on Zoom
Find nothing new to say.
Those noontime beers are so sublime,
By one, the pain’s diminished.
By three it’s dry-martini time;
By five, the bottle’s finished.
I’m in no shape to cook tonight
So I’ll order in some take-out.
Then a sudden rush of appetite
Makes me pull a frozen steak out.
I let it thaw beside the sink
And go to light the grill,
But first – I’ll have another drink,
And take a nap until . . .
I rise at nine, or maybe ten –
I’m sure I’m getting thinner.
The dog is growing fat, but then
He had a steak for dinner.
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