Torpor

“It must be Thursday,” said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer, “I never could get the hang of Thursdays.” – Douglas Adams in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

The fan hums hypnotic over at the edge of the room
and a fat fly buzzes back and forth in nonsensical flight
(how can a bug that big fly for so long without ever seeming
to stop to rest its tiny wings?)
clicking of keys and shuffling of pages punctuated
occasionally by the distant ringing of a phone somewhere…
outside, the air is humid and hot
it seems that everything is torpid
and begs for the occupants of this day
to take naps, but we really don’t have the time
to sleep when bulldozers are racing
to destroy your house before
the world implodes.

~~

a bit of feeling lazy combined with a bit of Douglas Adams.  Posting this for dVerse OLN

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19 thoughts on “Torpor

    • watch out for bulldozers. And Vogons. (and if you haven’t already, read “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” or you’ll have no idea what I mean by Vogons)

  1. One of my favorite books from college – I like where you’ve gone with it. In our minds we often fill the fantasy of summer days with non-stop action, forgetting the realities of heat. When I went to Egypt in December years ago it was 104 degrees in the winter! We had a mania driven tour guide that kept telling us to pick up the pace (4 places to see in one day) and we could sleep when we went home!

  2. we really don’t have the time
    to sleep when bulldozers are racing
    to destroy your house before
    the world implodes.

    It is a crazy world of strong warmth with the ever sinister specter of the ‘war machine’ waiting to destroy!

    Hank

  3. Once (or thrice actually) during my imprisonment as a worker for the state of VA, I was called a Vogon, once by an engineer who met none of the requirements and would not quality no matter what he did for licensure here. he called me a Vogon and I laughed at him and told him to grow up. But anyway, poor Douglas Adams….he was a fine writer and you have done him ample justice in this poem about torpor.

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