Inside the Weekend

Friday night. The end of their work week, the opening to their weekend. Just another day on your calendar, a typical evening. The liquor stores are bustling, the city’s warming up. It’s eight pm, you’re turning in, you’ve been so out of touch. Saturday could pass for Monday. The night that’s coming, you aren’t part of. Darkness falls, the streets light up, for you it’s just a blur. It’s no “turn up”, no “fall through"s, just you and only you. You wake on Sunday. In your bed, sober. Alone, no church, you tried, “why bother”, so you sleep your day away. Then it passes with some time left, and you’re restless, so you wander through your thoughts. No drowsiness, no comfort, as you turn and you toss. It’s past midnight. The weekend’s not the weekend, just the same days in your life.