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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