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.
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