That Sunday could arrive first-class,
Wrapped in tissue and stickers with minimalist logo.
Sent anonymously (from a fan?).
It will be a crisp, sunblushed Sunday.
The first in months without rain or
Export tariff.
Sunday, with speechless morning
and an afternoon
of step-counts exceeded.
Inside, there will be boutiques browsed,
with flat whites from
an independent coffeehouse, where we know the owner.
We could unpackage this Sunday
Share it and save the tissue
For Christmas giftwrap.
We might duel over whether
we go to yours for the holiday,
Or mine, across the sea.
We might get workaday Mondays, Milky-white Tuesdays,
dreary Wednesdays, Thursdays with dinner parties,
Two-for-one Fridays, and dancey Saturdays.
It hasn’t quite left the depot
Though,
And you won’t be in to answer the door.
