Today
"Is today the twenty-fourth?" I ask my waitress.
"No, that's tomorrow," she says, through a Monday-morning yawn.
"That's what I get when I don't read a paper —
Don't know where I am or when or who.
And truth be told, I don't really give a damn."
"Me neither," she adds to our nonconversation.
"It don't matter what you call 'em,
What date you give 'em;
They just come and go like a plague of locusts,
Roll over and die like possums in the middle of the road."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I mumble,
Unwilling, I suppose, to leave well enough completely alone.
"One day's just like another — work's circle jerk."
"Now, ain't that the truth?"
"Did you say today's tomorrow? Then what's yesterday? Today?"
08/23/10 - (1)
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