Why Is It Always Monday?
~b.r.crandall
He’s on the porch again,
black coffee exhaling heat
into the early morning crisp.
Why does he never wear socks?
And what’s with these books at his side?
Handbook of Writing Research,
Teaching for Racial Equity, A Good Fit
For All Kids, Creating Confident Writers.
He’s educating Al Bundy, I bet,
sharing empathy with Cinderella.
Emptying the ocean with a fork.
I imagine he’ll finger-tap
the keyboard piano a few more hours,
before blue skies will summon him.
The dog’s stare will chisel at his guilt
(four miles isn’t a distraction
if he continues thinking about
the work needing to be done).
The socks are in the kitchen
next to the milk-bones & spotted bananas.
The sneakers at the door.
The leash in the garage.
And there’s that 1 pm ZOOM call.
He’ll be back by then
lying about what
he’s accomplished.