The Snooze Button

The errands are mounting.
They pile in the middle of the room.
The pile is a mountain.
It’s getting hard to ignore,

but I double my efforts
force my head down
and sleep a little longer.

It’s a salesman,
the snooze button,
persuasive and slick,
telling me to
worry about the it later.
It’s always later.

The errands are mounting.
I have to extend my visa.
I have to apply for insurance.
I have to find an old pay stub.
There’s a paper due next Tuesday
I need to do some research.
Credit card bills, rent checks,
library fines, parking tickets.
Floors need mopping.
Oil needs changing.
Dishes need washing.
Laundry needs folding.
Books need reading.
And I’m out of milk.

The errands are starting to avalanche.
The whole mountain is crashing down.
The raucous is deafening,
I can’t hear myself think.

But I double my effort,
shut my eyes tight,
shove a pillow over my head,
hit the snooze button
and sleep another ten minutes.