hit the alarm clock like it’s a cockroach
approaching my child and
snooooooooze
just to wake up still far too early
to have a moment where the house is my
own, where i’m the king of the castle.
if i’m lucky, breakfast proceeds this way.
take my kids out. wrestle. feed. wrestle.
run out the door by 9 and school followed
by lunch with folk. spicy. often painfully
so. but diarrhea was part of the job description
i knew when i signed on. tea. not british
pansy crap. real fantastic, chest hair growing
tea. with people. anyone really. are you willing
to talk? yea I’m american. please don’t ask me
about politics.
i don’t carry a business card. no i can’t tell you
what i do. you want to die? you wanna go to
prison for a very long time? i thought not.
more school. a book here. maybe one there.
home. wrestle, tickle, wrestle the two year old
hit the streets with a double stroller.
i’m a family man.
dinner down your face, down your throat,
NEXT.
and hit the couch with reason.
television numbs some pain. books do too
but unless it’s harry potter i’ve read too much all
day. yea, it’s english this time, but come on.
then beer (if it’s the weekend). and bed….
prepare to whack the cockroach, tomorrow
looks the same.
from here the view is fantastic. holy crap
i get paid to do this?