Monday morning, back to the work week, the rat race, the daily grind, with a bag of fast food and a plastic smile.

Image via Wikipedia

Grab a bag o’breakfast, Luv,
And head on out the door.
You know that what you’re buying
Is the roof and the floor.
A handful of toaster pastries,
Carcenogens galore,
A pack of hardening arteries
Is what I’m paying for.

Skate into the parking lot,
Seconds before the bus.
If I don’t reach my duty door,
There’s gonna be a fuss.
Throw goods and gear in a closet,
And open up that door
With a cheery smile and greeting
To make this day less a bore.

Oh, it’s grab a bag o’breakfast,luv,
That I can’t eat in my room.
So I’m scarfing toaster pastries
As down the road I zoom.
Eat to live, and live to eat;
There must be something more
Than totin’toaster pastries
Out the door.

Image via Wikipedia

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Comments (2)
  • kate smedley on Mar 17, 2009

    That made me smile, I’ve been there, nice flow to the poem.

  • PR Mace on Mar 17, 2009

    Nicely done. I know how you feel.

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