Sunday Afternoons, 1986
I feared the fleeting sunshine
gleaming in the high tree branches—
Sunday’s final hours slowly wrung
out beneath the churning Earth.
School meant burned-out teachers’
glazed eyes ignoring cruelties.
Laying chips on my turkey sandwich
alone in the library’s AV room, in the back,
hunched over dusty, fallen piles
of LIFE, and long-dormant film cameras.
Even today, my stomach still churns a bit,
when I see Sunday sunlight in the treetops.
10 thoughts on "Sunday Afternoons, 1986"
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I like this! I always hated Sunday night, watching the last few sitcoms before bed, dreading another school week.
I was walking in our neighborhood on Sunday and saw the sunlight in the treetops and it brought me back. I’m glad you connected with it.
Beautifully evocative!
Thank you so much!
Truth we all feel no matter the occupation, facing another five days of inescapable obligation, whether we’re in school or moved on into later stages of life.
Well put. Thanks very much
You concisely place us in with you in these relatable moments–I like how you twist the normally-positive image of sunlight to something else
I’m glad you found the evoked feelings relatable. Thanks!
Totally got into this one Jason. For me it was a feeling of nausea. When working nightshift, it was any day of the week after a stretch off — at dawn.
Thanks! Wow, that’s a real inversion of the scenario.