Lack Of Pressure (Poetry)

It’s Sunday
yet no different now
to any other day
of our week —
retirement has such odd
redundancies
we never quite
saw coming

This lounging —
chilling comfortably
half-dressed
is something we can do
at any time
no longer just tradition’s
day of rest
of late it has become the norm
and suddenly
I hate the lazy slob
(so unfocused — no real job)
that I’ve become