On Saturdays and Sundays
we wake up late, spend leisurely
time at breakfast, think of lunch,
plan meticulously for dinner
at some fancy new or familiar
joint, never for a moment wondering
if on other days of the week
the Mondays, Tuesdays and so on
right through the glossy soft-porn
calendar on whose pages
luscious actresses smile,
tempting the passage
of weeks, months and years,
anything genuine or worthwhile
is realized apart from the mere
act of living. Reflection, to be sure,
is a precious rare thing,
placed carefully
on the proverbial back burner
while life passes by imperceptibly
like the scent of nothingness.

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