Too Weary
Too weary
to fold my clothes.
Too weary
to order vicodin on-line, I delete spam from my
in-box.
Too weary
to wear a condom, I lose interest in sex.
Too weary
to lift the toilet seat, I sit and pee like a girl.
Too weary
to say “I love you” back to my wife, I grunt
and
switch off the light.
Too weary
to sleep, I watch the full moon plummet
through
the starless night sky towards dawn.
Too weary
to keep my eyes open during Tibetan Buddhist
teachings,
I daydream about tomorrow’s lunch.
Too weary
as manager to read 10
page handwritten letter
from
three year retreatants.
Too weary
to join the sangha dancing, I go home & watch
James
Bond alone.
Too weary
to invent a story about a gun.
Too weary
to work as cook, I turn in letter of resignation
to my cat
who complains loudly about the rain on our
cheap tin
roof.
Too weary
to trod the One Path to complete
Enlightenment,
I leave the crowded shrine tent to go home
and bathe.
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