I could pretend I do not like to be
At home, and sit unsociable and still
Down on the couch, in front of the TV,
But what would be the point? Sunday still will
Find me here stationary and amused,
In massive comfort as I entertain
Myself with nothing. Do not be confused:
I still like other things, and won't refrain
From doing them to make a point. It's just
I also like to veg out on the couch
Ignoring all the things I should or must,
Stuffed in the cushions like a joey's pouch.
I'll be here waiting - you can join, you know -
Taking the day to take my living slow.
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