Make a salad.
Pay some bills.
(Good lord, the power bill’s high.)
Change the light bulb in the garage.

Feed the birds.
Scrub the birdbath
green with summer algae.
Pull a few weeds.

Head to the basement.
Ignore the dusty cobwebs.
Scoop out the cat box.
Drop and give me 20 on the Total Gym.

Procrastination requires imagination –
or at least perseverance.

Find the emery board.
Shape nail, neaten nail,
even out and smooth.
Shine and buff.

Almost too late to pick up a pen
and stimulate the brain with writing.
Pick up the Smart Phone instead.
(As if that won’t trigger dopamine.)

Os score, weather forecast, email.
FreeCell.
Hit Start. Win. Play Again.
Get stuck. Restart. Play Again.

Play Again. Play Again. Play Again.
Until the battery dies. FreeCell is dead.
For now.
Only ink remains.

Friday at work people tell her:
“Great dress.”
“Thank you!”
“You have a date tonight?”
“I do.”
“With Mr. Right?”
“Or Mr. Right Now.”
BIG LAUGH.

At five o’clock
she drives home,
removes the dress and
hangs it up,
washes her face of
mascara and blush.
She tries to smile,
to laugh at her ruse,
but sees only smoke
in the mirror.