the Week.

on the Monday

that was not a 

Monday,

you walked down the street

and slipped a little

on melting pieces of ice

that managed to stay

from the snow on Christmas day.

on the Tuesday

that was almost a

Wednesday,

you sat on the bench

to eat your lunch

of spinach leaves

and other greens

and croutons soaked in

three different kinds

of low-fat vinaigrettes.

on the Wednesday

that felt exactly like a

Wednesday,

you waited for the bus

that just wouldn't come

on time,

and watched the cars 

breathe incessantly,

choking the streets.

on the Thursday

that followed the

Wednesday,

you dreamed that it was

Friday, then

Saturday, then

Sunday, 

when you died 

when you woke.