Obliterated Tuesdays

Obliterated Tuesdays jackhammer the week. What slovenly hills must I climb to catharsis today? The weeks mail themselves to my lover, and he sews them in his coat. He’s freezing, I’m burning. My bikini is tight. My job is to shovel wishes off the beaches of my mind and into the wallets of my enemies. Love grows along the fences in this town like ivy, tearing it down in elegant slow motion. My week dines on dinosaurs and government evasion. Armies convene in my blood to fight the hordes of daily tasks. Wednesday waits around the corner, sucking on candy cigarettes and wearing a black leather jacket emblazoned with the word, “Hope.”