I was made for Afternoons












I was made for afternoons.
For long lunches, and wine before 5 pm.
For sitting in the sun with a coffee
Reading Russian novels,
or painting with watercolors.
And perhaps later,
Sleeping in the grass at the bottom of the garden.
Or perhaps taking out ink
and paper
and drawing Zen characters while listens to Mahler.
But I am stuck
Here
There
Unable to do that but which I am paid for.
My "employment".
Which saps me dry
Of all my reflection
my gifts
and my desire.

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