February Blues

I think the month of February

is a hard month for most.

It’s a bit cloudier, a bit colder,

(much unlike fresh toast).

We celebrated our holidays

together a few months ago.

In January, the memories still brought us joy.

In February, oh no, no, no!

Oh, what pathetic people are we,

huddling alone in our rooms

eating baguette after baguette

and chocolate by the spoon.

The little things that rolled off your shoulders

back in October or September

now make you want to yell or cry

or, perhaps, to someone, dismember.

Well, gee, I’d love to write that lesson plan

for your class tomorrow morn.

I also would’ve loved if you’d asked me

more than eight hours before.

Please stop assuming I’m wasteful,

cold-hearted, rich, and ignorant.

There’s kind of a lot of Americans

and it's possible we’re all a bit different.

No, I’m not dumb or unintelligent

just because I don’t understand.

Perhaps you could speak more clearly

and not cover your mouth with your hands.

 

Why are you standing so close to me?!

Stop staring at my face!!

Ah! The customs are so different

in this strange European place.

February Blues, what you do to me!

I’m so glad you’ve gone away.

March brings a lovely new month

and brighter, happier days!

But you wretched month, I know you’ll return

You’ll never, ever resign.

At least the next few Februaries

are only twenty-eight days instead of twenty-nine!

(Please, my friends, be aware

that I’m not really in too much pain.

Now that it's March, I’m once again content

in this country known as Spain.)