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Accustom
by Melissa PantherIve grown nauseous
Of coming home to
S I L E N C E
No light in the
Window and
Dinner to intoxicate
My senses as I
Enter and scurry towards the source.
No, only a motion light
On the stoop that
Comes on after
Im three steps in
The door
And a frozen
Sitcom- guess what youre single meal
Or leftovers from
Tuesday night
Chinese cuisine
With Mr. I have no personality
And its already
Friday
Hows your day?
Hows work?
Traffic?
Did you remember to pick-up
The dry cleaning?
Ben and Jerry,
The cats
Roll protest that
They need more
S P A C E
Less conversation, fewer questions
While I get out
Death-by-routine-boredom
And curl up with
Better homes
Havent got a damn
Vegetable, flower, window box or otherwise
Garden
Snap on Peter Jennings
On the six oclock
Drone fest repeat
Or who wants to be a
Obviously not me
Havent got HBO
Or a drop of juice
And then I get distracted
Wondering if someday
In many years
This will be me again,
Still the same
Only
Different.
11/20/2006 Author's Note: If I had only known then what I know now...right?
Posted on 11/21/2006
Copyright © 2025 Melissa Panther
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 11/28/06 at 06:42 PM Damn...you were peeking into the scrapbook of my life again, weren't you? From the other side of the mirror perhaps, but still... |
| Posted by Katerina T Nix on 11/30/06 at 01:19 AM Routine's a killer.... Great read, Melissa. I really enjoyed reading this piece. Well done -Kat :) |
| Posted by Olivia Weinkein on 08/06/08 at 11:15 PM I can relate to this in alot of ways, especially those last lines. It's weird how we always end up the same, only different. One of my favs. |
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