Weekend

Even though I have never been a skilled poet, I nevertheless have given it a shot this evening. I just kind of dashed it off in 20 minutes or so. Kindly tell me what you think.

~~~

"Shower, Friday, 7:30 PM"

All is quiet in the dormitory.
Everyone else is out celebrating the
arrival of the weekend “properly.”
Sweaty, sticky, I step into the shower stall.

All is silent. Most everyone else is out
giving their brains the evening off.

I turn the dial. Cold drops startle me,
but soon the water warms up. The shampoo
tingles as I rub it vigorously into my scalp.
To cleanse one’s body is soothing;
I will never understand the urge to
pollute so willingly something so valuable.

In seven hours, I am likely to be awakened rudely
by wild yelling in the dormitory hall
by people whose brains have the evening off,
whose brains have been replaced
by pitiful, fleeting impostors.
I do not begrudge them their revelry;
I am simply different, perhaps dull.

I dry myself off; I dress for an evening
of reading, writing, thinking.
My brain’s employer is relentless.

~~~

Tonight's lyrical selection: "Song For The Asking," by Simon & Garfunkel.

"Here is my song for the asking,
Ask me and I will play,
So sweetly I make you smile.

Here is my tune for the taking,
Take it, don't turn away,
I've been waiting all my life.

Thinking it over I've been sad,
Thinking it over I'd be more than glad to change my ways,
For the asking,
Ask me and I will play,
All the love that I hold inside."