grind (poem 20160516)

you return from vacation
tired and vaguely put off
by having to come home
but the worst part isn’t
giving up on your leisure
or the new vistas
or just escaping the grind

the worst part is coming home
and finding that everything
is fine
that the world didn’t stop turning
just because you weren’t there
that the gears and cogs
circled their axes like normal
and nothing is out of place
that the grind was just fine
without you

you resent the world for not
needing you
and you resent yourself
for wanting it to

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