Weekends of Youth (weak ends with you)

Thursday begins with flirt at Friday
but only with sand drops in
the left lanes of eyes,

Friday morning’s just a rocket
launch into the weekend,
all arrows stirring
slow in quiver,

tug the bow and flick
love’s spine for

Friday night’s moon, from roof
salutes the dangling
stars and hits
hits the hay
then you-

Yahoo! it’s Saturn Day and
and what nots will i
not do?

for start, i’ll pour 5 corn flakes
in sugar hill lakes
of milk

then zone out like fresh drained
udder in front of zenith colour
tv sitter for at least trio
or four hours,

inertia shrugs (slightly) mid afternoon,
and by Sat night, moon’s already
dressed in Monday’s frown,

and we’re not even
one day down-

and well, Sunday’s
the write-off

soaked in full greys of fresh
paved bedroom corner
beanbag grave

baggy pants pulled over
eyes, cd jackets all
torn off,

ma, think I just came down with
same little Sunday
evenin’ cough.

image: https://favim.com/image/2326940/

image: https://twitter.com/davidbezartist/status/1064098737285402624

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