I see a pile of dishes in the back of my mind.
There’s an unwatered moon vine treated unkind.
Unscooped litter that smells of eau de shit.
‘While all my efforts are on trying not to quit.
Unswept floors.
Unscrubbed toilets.
Yet all of my focus
is set on workplace commotion.
When the day is done,
12 hours come and gone,
I’ll lay fused to the couch,
in garbage, like Oscar the Grouch.
