Type A-

9 Sep

Sorry world, you will have to wait.  Rivka B. is too tired to play.  The sun arose and so did she, face was made and hair was teased.  To put on clothes proved a chore too great thus the weary body fell, once again, prostrate.  The family knows not what to do when the cruise director has gone coo coo.  They wander about and wonder why, “should we fry an egg, or kill a fly?”  With mom laid up, holed away in her room, the picture fragments and resembles partial doom.  And to ensure the confused that doom not be their fate, she lifts the heavy, concrete blocks that once were her feet.  She staggers listlessly across the floor, her appearance noticed at the kitchen door.  “Mom, good morning.  How did you sleep?”  She nods and smiles, no words can she speak.  The dishes greet her, from the night before.  The coffee pot empty, another chore.  Her husband, rested, eager to converse is met with silence–the present curse.  The dishes she cleaned, the coffee she poured, now back to bed not even one word.

Sorry world, you will have to wait.  Rivka B. is too tired to play.

 

P.s. I am a closet fan of the band, Bauhaus.  I considered putting their video covering Bowie’s, “Ziggy Stardust”, up for viewing but thought the visuals too dark and felt, given the above nonsense, would convey an erroneous impression of me being in a melancholic state.  And since I am not dark, just tired, I refrained.  In its stead, I leave you a lighter version of my secret passion…

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