unpaid vacation   


haven’t left the apartment, not in two days 
but the world hasn’t missed me at all 
neither the smiling clerk at the 7-11 
nor eye-rolling bagger at the Shaw’s 
not the morning-wishing
Metro vendor 


gas and electric bills nestle patiently 
in their no-nonsense blue and white 
envelopes, completely unconcerned
though the mailman rang the bell like crazy
as if my neglect were a personal slight 


at one of those best times, lingered upon 
on days like this, my lover would have 
left six messages, then complained about 
clingy women after I left two in return 
but today there’s only an omelet’s sizzle





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