Saturday Every Day

Used to be I enjoyed Saturdays once a week.

In these my retirement days, seems Saturdays

are stretched across the calendar of my cognition

seven days a week. Each day I wake, I tell myself,

it’s Saturday again, and you, my friend, are free to

do any damned thing you please. No bosses or

corporate BS hanging over you, no sir. No

standing at attention, no saluting captains of

commerce or generals of industry. Seven days

in a row now are filled with a perpetual state of

standing leisurely at ease. The only thing which

fouls up the whole premise of the retirement

ideal is the persistent shadow of old age and its

encroaching limitations. That son-of-a-bitch keeps

a followin’ and a growin’ on me without release,

Saturday, every day, seven friggin’ days a week.

Chris Hanch 7-14-18