at the screen, having watched
nineteen
hours of football
and football analysis
over the weekend.
i brush the potato
chip crumbs off my Lion
Jersey,
pick up the beer cans,
and squeeze
the pizza box into the fridge.
i let the dog out,
let the cat in.
smoke a cigarette, then
close the door
once everyone is in.
lights off, and up the stairs
i go,
letting clothes
call to the floor.
i should brush my teeth,
but no.
tomorrow
morning, for that.
this is why i'll probably
never be married
again.
No comments:
Post a Comment