The Daily Grind
After the five-day holiday, after
almost a week of sleeping in and
napping at will, he’s unprepared
at half-past five to face the fact
that it’s another workday to be
endured, to slavishly slave away.
Routine works best to overcome
inertia, he thinks, so he goes out
to the kitchen, sets the coffee
brewing and turns on the morning
news. A scoundrel’s in office—no
news there—and by the time he’s
brushed, dressed, and ready to go
the coffee’s ready, too. He fills
the travel mug, kisses his lover
goodbye, and sails out to face
the day ahead. It’s not until
he’s almost half-way to work
he reaches for the cup, takes a
sip and frowns. It’s awful and
he can’t imagine why. But then
it comes to him: no brandy.
About the Poet:
Ron. Lavalette lives in Vermont, land of the fur-bearing trout and the bilingual stop sign. He’s been widely published, both in print and online. A reasonable sample of his work can be found at EGGS OVER TOKYO: http://eggsovertokyo.blogspot.com
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