Catchup

You’ve had your summertime in the sun,
Turned blazing, crimson red,
Applied the recommended wet
Washcloth and gone to bed.

You’ve listened to Beethoven and Bach
And John Zorn on the lawn
And gotten bitten by hungry bugs
And look like  a savaged fawn.

You’ve driven winding country roads
That always leave you a mess
And having failed to learn a thing
Still have no G.P.S.

But now you’re home, it’s catchup day,
A bloody collection of thrills!
A hundred messages and a pile
Of magazines and  bills.