Some Days

are meant to be wasted
drinking milk from the carton
and eating creamy grocery store icing.
Today I haven't washed my hair
and my fingers have been sticky since morning.
The funnies are punctuated
with maple smudges, augmenting
Snoopy and Dagwood and Cathy.
How does a comic strip rise to the
top of the page?
In all its years, Far Side
never rose above the fold
of page B3 of the Anderson Independent,
despite its nationwide popularity.
Now the time has come
to wash the dishes:
unload the dishwasher,
load the dishwasher,
pour the soap,
close; lock; set; start.
The top level will run empty
because I never use glasses.
I choose against my better judgment
and mild paranoia
to drink standing up in front of the open fridge,
legs spread for balance
as I tilt my head back and let
fat-free blue milk
run over my tongue and my tonsils,
washing away the last blob
of sticky sweetness,
washing through me,
fortifying my teeth and bones
for the hard days ahead,
congealing with the icing in my throat
and making a solid lump.
So I take a shower and
brush my teeth while the water runs over me
and gargle and run my clean fingers
through my clean hair and go back to bed.