When I'm Sixty-Four (Semantic Satiation)
by Jowell Tan
Every day,
Is exactly the same.
The same shoes,
The same shuffling footsteps,
The same route through the same roads to the same coffeeshop.
The same breakfast,
The same stallowners,
The same fellow old men talking about the same old things.
The same domestic helpers,
The same grocery carriers,
The same office workers boarding the same buses to reach their same workplaces.
The same breakfast consumed,
The same genial conversation,
The same hellos and goodbyes spouted on the way out.
The same walk home,
The same elevator up,
The same sofa and bed to rest on while watching the same television shows.
Every day,
Is exactly the same.
Is exactly the same.
The same shoes,
The same shuffling footsteps,
The same route through the same roads to the same coffeeshop.
The same breakfast,
The same stallowners,
The same fellow old men talking about the same old things.
The same domestic helpers,
The same grocery carriers,
The same office workers boarding the same buses to reach their same workplaces.
The same breakfast consumed,
The same genial conversation,
The same hellos and goodbyes spouted on the way out.
The same walk home,
The same elevator up,
The same sofa and bed to rest on while watching the same television shows.
Every day,
Is exactly the same.
|
3
favs |
1304 views
6 comments |
108 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
The life of a retiree - repetition, routine, redundancy.
Other stories by Jowell Tan
Tags
Comments
You must
log in
to post comments.
Change is gonna do ya good.*
What a boring world. Quite amusingly told. Enjoyed.
The dishes, the laundry, the litter box. The idiots.
Hmmmm. Not the ones I know. Interesting pov.
Pretty depressing, but I guess there are people like this.
Consider moving from
"Every day
is exactly the same."
to
"Every poem
is exactly the same."
I'm looking for movement inside the stasis.