After Apollinaire by Franz Wright
Hah, it has started! I no longer feel the pull of work. No, sir. Every year it’s the same. Every last quarter, and all I want is to do nothing. Gosh. You don’t know how much I’ve been waiting for the feeling to kick in. Now I only have to finish all the outstanding projects, and then I’m off. I think I have until November to wrap things up, and then it’s another lovely December for me. What’s that you’re hearing? Yes, I’m playing Christmas songs already.
It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,
and it is finished;
I sit back and light my cigarette
on a ray of dusk.
I don’t want to write anymore.
All I want to do is smoke.