On early curly cue Tuesday mornings,
(they say it's the most productive
day of the week) I would sit
with cheese puff sesame pastries
that shocked and dissappointed
with every bite.
I would attack the pastry
with the same enthusiasm and drive
people saved for their Sunday
yoga classes or their Thursday
window washing, but instead of
elbow grease I employed
molars and spit.
In this way, I would prep and stretch
for the week ahead. An endless monotony
of moments where one is expecting sweet
cream cheese, and instead delivered Velveeta.