Thursday dawns
With the smell of
Rotting fish and rain
Free iced coffee
And the weight
Of the world
On aching knees
The memory
Of dead trees
And arguments
And bruises
Still blackening
Like jam
Grape
In a packet
Thursday teases
That there is hope
For the weekend
When everthinhg reminds us
That there’s not
And yet
Maybe
I another parallel universe
Yeah
There’s still not
Trusday tries
Fails
And tries again
Because in Thursday
There is all that is

April Wells
4/21/16