Monday Madness Poem by Ena Nin

Whoever reminds us
that we swim in a bowl of candies
does thrive in crafty poetry.

Life is a Monday morning, daily
bustling in constant pursuit
of realities sans liberty.
You drive to and from work,
try to answer phone calls
that may matter or even not.
And the other real life
begins once you're home.
The kitchen, dirty laundry,
the growing plethora of mails,
retrieving and responding to calls,
again; who can think of resuming
that painting project. The array
of acrylic and oil tubes waiting
for that canvas of calla lilies
to be alive once more.

Sometimes, I wonder
if there's a self-help book
on how to keep one bored,
lazy but happy
for at least an hour.