Embarrassingly Old Work: Poetry: Bad Day – From 1999

I had a really bad day today.
I’m not talking about the “I got up on the wrong side of the bed” day.
I’m talking about the “I fell out of bed and landed on some forks that were carelessly strewn about the floor” day.
I ran out of milk for breakfast.
My shirt was wrinkled.
And all the showers had only cold water.
Like I said, it was a bad day.
I answered a question on a midterm with “You tell me.”
I missed a class for the first time, to which the teacher responded “You’re always cutting.”
And I lost 22 points for spelling on a listening comprehension test.
It was most certainly a bad day.
A wrong number woke me up at 9:00 in the morning.
And again at 9:03.
And I bet my eggs would have been runny if I had a clean pan to cook them in.
Yes, I had a bad day.
And my cab driver tried to go the wrong way down a one-way street.
Now I’m not saying I know how to be a cab driver
But I’m pretty sure he gets paid to know this stuff.
But it was all part of my bad day.
And now, I have to sit on a bus for five hours
Because I missed the express by 20 minutes
Thanks to my teacher (who took off 22 points for spelling on a listening comprehension test).
I think this is a bad day.
I’m really bored right now.
And I have that weird feeling in my stomach from reading on the bus (which I’d do more of but I accidentally put my books in the luggage-checker).
And it’s still 2 hours until I get to see you.
Wait–I get to see you.
This is a really good day.

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