Mondays

As I stood in line this morning for my coffee ration I realized that I needed to speak out about this before its too late. First a poem by me.

Monday is not just any day.
There is a way in which it preys on your weekend dreams.
Monday, you don't need to live this way.
As alarm clocks, coffee and commuting try and extinguish that person you had been.


Monday mornings invoke a waking ritual that you could do in your sleep. Before you know it your bodies reflexive motions deliver you to work with is fluorescent lighting so bright forcing your gaze to the cold tiles passing underneath. By this time your mind is flickering on and aware...beware. Disbelief accompanies your internal alarm that all is not well. This place, these people...so strangely familiar. You feel like this is a dream you once had and now you are in it. Repressed memories of deadlines and "to do's" from Friday bubble up back into your conscientiousness. Slowly these responsibilities replace your weekend you. They displace the sense of clarity you were finally forming about your life. You forget that you ever experienced that Saturday daydream in the sun. Monday's devolve into survival.

As you stand in line for your coffee ration think about your feelings struggling within. How are you making sense of this Monday? How can Saturday and Sunday be so different? Who did you become? Don't forget you were different just last Saturday my friend.