I hate Fridays.
They always bring the anticipation of the weekend
and the dread of the Monday together.
The Friday nights in bed, or elsewhere,
are a little dead and gone.
The alcohol goes up and down in instants,
and conversations drain towards losses and laziness.
I like Mondays.
They stink of work and thought
and make tomorrow and tomorrow better.
They make me want to leave home with a packet of cigarettes
and a circus in my pockets
in a two man band with an old lover,
rolling through a made up world of beautiful and polite people….