Tuesdays are slipping out of my grasp


Tuesday. Photographic: DWV


Tuesdays are slipping out of my grasp


Tuesday used to wear

a suit, dark blue or brown,

and wore his hair

in a parting on the left.


That is the male Tuesday, of course.

Female Tuesdays

wore dresses that left their ankles

barely bare,

and had their hair curled

and styled in formal shapes.


Naturally things have changed.

Today’s Tuesdays

mostly wear jeans

and informal shirts,

often T-shirts,

and have a haircut

that, to me, looks bizarre.


Female Tuesdays

tend to wear tight jean-like trousers,

tops of varying puzzling designs,

and sometimes clean-shaved heads.


It is with these later Tuesdays

that I now have to deal with.


The last time I had a conversation

with one of the Tuesdays,

she spoke in a rapid flow of words,

spilling out in a seemingly endless

rhyming type of juvenile stream-of-consciousnes.


I was speechless.


Not that the old Tuesdays

were all that communicative.

They often spoke in stilted sentences

and used esoteric words designed

to hide their lack of meaning.


The truth is

that I can get very little sense

out of Tuesdays nowadays.


Did I get any sense out of the old Tuesdays?

I think so, but it may be an illusion.


So here is my strategy:

In conversations with my Tuesdays,

I will nod when it seems appropriate.

I will wait until Tuesday’s working hours are past,

and I will look forward to meeting Wednesday.

Surely Wednesday will be better?


About kruger01

Poet, author, translator Grandfather of five. Bonsai grower.
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