Just Like the Past Few Weeks

My coffee reminds me of something,

Everything I’m doing is what I’ve done.

These days just blur together

With the newspaper,

Just repeating stories we already knew.

So, why is it called news?

How many times

Have I sat in this chair,

Drank the same coffee,

Read the same stories,

Saw the same walls?

It happens every day,

But the days don’t care

If I get bored, do they?

So, just like every other day,

I sit here, drinking my coffee,

And try in vain to talk with my wife.

Her skull is taking on

An interesting

New hue.

So nice to see that

The dog hasn’t moved the bones yet.

He always avoids them,

Every day.