These are the Monday morning chores,
to clean the Sunday parties and company away.
To let the kettle whistle kettlebells fall from my hands
oh, this way, built to serve
and never for service.

Modern takes on immodern practice
baking bread, old maids and a rusty rocking chair
knitting ladders to the sun and the speed of light
cutting latency and winding people whole again.

And we have so much to teach you, have so much
to teach ourselves. How to doctor lemonade with limoncello
have brunch at 1pm precisely with the neighbor boys.
How to edge lipstick and dress in high heels,
to clear the wreckage from your Sunday breakaway.

And these are the Monday morning chores,
to clean the Sunday parties and parcels away.
To let the years fall like lemons from my hands
and scrub my face clean in the light of day.

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