my perfect sunday

if i had my way, i would spend sundays just devouring the new york times.

i'd start at the crossword puzzle, and do every answer i could, snuggled in bed, letting the sunlight and strain of thought wake me up. i'd spill egg whites on the grey pages of arts & leisure, and sip my coffee while taking in the full-page color cinema ads & off-broadway theatre descriptions. i'd give my boyfriend the sports section and take a shower while he read out unfinished crossword clues and summarized book review titles. i'd flip through the food & travel sections in my towel, and clip coupons, and check television listings as i dried my hair. and when half the day is gone, after i'd dress and pat my hair dry and feel ready to greet the world outside my world, i'd read the front page: headlines and photo captions first. national news, then global. and all the sadness, and all the past, and all the news that some editor deemed fit to be printed would soak through my narrow life as i left my week behind.