Sunday Night Live Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

The only thing about Sunday evening
that sticks in the mind is my Pa's admonition
that no matter the consequences of hanging
out with a crowd that carouses until dawn
is get up and go to work Monday morning!

I think about that now and then as I read
of unemployed workers whose jobs
have left our shores and immigrants
who do the jobs we decline to do

Layabouts who flop on couches chugging
six-packs watching athletes in their prime
perform no matter what their efforts cost
in pain and eventual disability - it's ironic
that in the end both share a like fate!