"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.