frisatsun

oh well, a saturday is always cursed
in between a full friday and a full sunday
if the friday is filled and the sunday is filled
with things to do and faces to meet
and dirt roads to travel by, trees to leave behind
the bus windows and promise to meet again
the saturday in between is only full of  pointless
nothing, like the saturday time that stretches
itself, punctuated with hopeless stretches of sleep
and the little ditties, dirty dreams -
empty the magazine rack, search for special words
impossible attempts to survive boredom -
open the mouth to say no to food or
just 'enough! I'm not hungry!'