Blogs galore and even thinking about adding to yours
makes you tired, though it's a blog about chronic fatigue
syndrome. Too tired to shave your legs, thinking about
wearing those footless tights under the mini to this
so-called party; maybe you can pull it off. Why worry?
Too much dithering about the least little things,
not enough deciding. Unclench your teeth, your
buttocks too, get a grip. A year from now, who will
remember this night, this fan of fortune's cards
in your gin rummy hand? Who will be there? and
if he does come, will he even look at you, Lisa?
Don't even think of smiling. Now where have you left
the business end of your wit? You can knock
them back, pep talk your way out of any paper bag.
Up-and-at 'em, Lisa, parlay blog into book.
Any warm body seems to be able to get it done.
You, too, Lisa. One last cigarette for the road.