Early Sunday Afternoon by Connor Kaplan

Early Sunday Afternoon by Connor Kaplan

I used to mock my friends about sleeping.

Waking up late seemed stupid to young me.

Why sleep in when I can wake up early?

A whole day ahead of me to exhaust.

I could watch cartoons and see the sunrise.

Play games without being scolded by mom.

I could do homework that I should have done.

Look outside to see the bird get the worm.

So why sleep in, when you wake up your tired.

You only need to sleep so long at night.

Yet you feel accomplished that you slept long.

Ten hours, twelve hours, fourteen!

Why would you want to act like a feline.

Yet now I find myself waking up late.

No more dawn, no more birds chirping outside.

No more fresh balls of water on the grass.

No more brand new Sunday morning cartoons.

Why would I get rid of this experience.

Maybe it is due to the late nights.

Staying up until I notice the cars

 sleeping like the rest of the empty night.

Mindlessly talking with friends until they

see the small hand reach the top right corner.

A so now I find myself all alone

in the wee hours of the night and day.

The tables have turned and now sleep late

and my friends mock me and my condition.

They decided randomly as it seems

to go to bed and wake up with the bird.

Just to repeat the same thing everyday

 

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Poem of the Day: Early Sunday Morning

Posted: Wed, 24 Apr 2013 00:00:00 -0600

I used to mock my father and his chums

for getting up early on Sunday morning

and drinking coffee at a local spot

but now I’m one of those chumps.

No one cares about my old humiliations

but they go on dragging through my sleep

like a string of empty tin cans rattling

behind an abandoned car.

It’s like this: just when you think

you have forgotten that red-haired girl

who left you stranded in a parking lot

forty years ago, you wake up

early enough to see her disappearing

around the corner of your dream

on someone else’s motorcycle

roaring onto the highway at sunrise.

And so now I’m sitting in a dimly lit

café full of early morning risers

where the windows are covered with soot

and the coffee is warm and bitter.