Plenty

07/12/11

 

To bed at 12

Up at 1, 4, and 8.

It sucks.

I suppose you think it's great.

So what? I'm supposed to sleep through

The convergence of 3 coenciding alarms?

You pulling covers over and out-from-under me?

And I'm supposed to keep quiet and grin

At you turning your back on me as a child,

And comply as you later pull me to you as a toy or a bone?

Just as you slap me in the face with words

I did not ask for nor deserve,

And you expect me to just eat them

As if grains of simple goodness and salt

And maybe even ask for more?

Then call this an "adjustment",

And say "Yesterday was yesterday",

But then commence to complain about things

That befell your ear that day upon your arrival home?

All that fell upon your ear at that time

Was me waiting for you to tell me about your day

As you said you would with the plate of scrumtiousness

I had waiting for you and brought you in the room!

Then you slept.

I woke you when you said wake you,

Or tried. For you'd already stirred, seeming to -

As usual - want to play, but there was work to be done...

 

I will not be had!

Played in any way!

I can't stand for it by any means!

Nor will I be made to be the bad guy

For your quitting, giving up, or lack of decision and action!

Nor will I bear the burden of your dissatisfaction

When you've never been happy!

 

If this be what you mean by patience,

Then I have plenty.