Saturday Night Lament Poem by L MILTON HANKINS

Saturday nights alone in my humble abode
Entertaining myself a damned heavy load
Television- a wasteland of unadulterated trash
Going to a cinema costs way too much cash
Last week's laundry languishes in the dryer
Quietly wrinkling ‘til I move on up higher
I still must take care of yesterday's dishes
And clean out the aquarium, those poor little fishes
I have not dusted since I do not know when
Some of the problem is this open bottle of gin
Tomorrow's another day, just like Scarlett said
Perhaps next week I will start making my bed
If everything goes perfect ‘til the first of the year
I will hire everything done while I sip on a beer
Saturday nights alone will still come and go
Nothing much will have changed, although
I shall be bored in more orderly circumstances
Until then I will continue to take my chances
Living my bachelor life as only I can
A lonely, lazy, drunken old man!