Thursday

Thursday arrives in a plain brown cardboard box,

Very early,

And postage due.



I bring it inside--

(I subscribe to these days of the week,

Also to Redbook, Curve, Time, and The Star.)



I open the box and lift Thursday out of its nest of little styrofoam peanuts.

My dog barks at it,

And tries to herd it into a corner of the kitchen.

Thursday speaks:



"Are you already fed up with the work week?"

I chew my fingernail and nod.

"Do you wish it was the weekend?"

I give Thursday my brightest smile.

"Well it isn't, and you have to work today. Not only that, but it isn't even Friday yet."



With a cry, the dog and I both lunge for Thursday,

Intending to do murder right there next to the dishwasher,

But Thursday jumps into a nearby calendar and hides.



The dog and I look at each other.

He whines.

I moan.

We will be having to deal with Thursday all day long.

The dog pees on the tile.

I bang my head against the cupboard doors.

Good morning.

It's Thursday!

_______