After My Work Is Done

After my work is done I'm going to start a blog about all the blogs I'm going to start after my work is done. After my work is done I'm going to write about how I'm going to write about all the things I think about all the time. I'm going to write about how to clean up all the sand and grime around my work, after my work is done. I'm going to write about the time I climbed on top of the dumpsters and swept off all the snow, to throw away all the trash that had piled up around the dumpsters when the dumpsters were too piled with snow for anyone to throw away anything, after my work is done.

After my work is done I'm going to write a blog about how I want to become famous for writing a blog about how I want to become famous for writing a little bit more in my blog each night, after my work is done. After my work is done I'm going to write a blog about how I want to write a blog about the joys of picking through the clearance rack in the used cd store, judging albums by their cover and taking them home to listen for weeks, together, alone with my new two dollar lover, after my work is done.

After my work is done I'm going to write a blog about how to slog your way through anything to fortune and joy and happiness, and I'm going to try to claim, all the way, that the work is the real happiness, and it'll be so genuine you'll know I'm not just doing it to be a pest, or to fill the time and the empty space inside my mind that's left open, hoping for some new impulse to push through, after my work is done.

After my work is done I will buy a hundred flowers and volunteer a hundred hours helping kids plant them down at the shelter. Then we'll sit out in the summer sun and watch their little petals swelter out all the water we've can pour them, until it hurts too much and we turn and ignore them, walk back to our cars across hot parking lots, snapping chewing gum against our blood red gums, after my work is done.

After my work is done I will kiss you deeply and discretely, hiding behind curtains from the sun and everyone who watches it run its course in terranian resorts and even those playing aerial sports and we'll court alone. I'll gently pull the battery out of your phone after my work is done.