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"Wet Mondays" by H. Holt
 

People are noisy on wet Mondays—

noisier than normal,

they slosh and they clatter

as if to match what rests

in the pitter-patter piss

beyond the building

humming with electricity

and my bitterness is crafted

from thoughts of

“I don’t want to be here”

to hell with people

and public places;

to hell with being

a public servant

I want to go home,

be a master of my bed.

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