On a Wednesday Like This

I just want to drink coffee
and write shitty poetry,
open the windows,
wear a cardigan
without a shirt
and give all my fucks away,
especially the ones 
concerning the girls
I've fucked.

I just want to ride the bus,
listening to old music,
assuming music from 2006
is old;
well, it has been eleven years
since then.

I just want eat an expensive lunch,
penning more pensive poetry
on a beverage napkin,
which I will send to my Daniel.
Then I will go back to the couch
and waste the rest of the day
watching television,
feeling productive, really.