July 11

Some weekends wink
with their one good eye
as they go jaunting by.

Like a lick they whet
your appetite, but before
you bite, they run dry.

Some swim in meditation,
long hours of contemplation
saunas, sunburns and light.

For these I wake up Monday
as Rip Van Winkle, a bridge
too long to reach Friday night. 

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