Lazy

Lazy
How many times have you used that word?
How many times have you thought it?
Today, instead of being productive
I used the dictionary to try to find meaning. 
The first word under synonyms for lazy, is “slothful”.
While doing nothing, I went on to check
And confirmed, it’s one of the deadly sins.
So as I sit idle on my couch, 
It’s as if I have become evil.
The dictionary also describes lazy 
As “being unwilling to work”.
Not “unable” or “uninterested”.
Oh no, clearly, if I wanted
I would get off the damn couch.

It has never been a kind word
And it has often been used as a weapon. 
It’s funny how painful and punishing
The choice of laziness can be.
Since I was wallowing in my indolence. 
I started a google search,
“How to tell the difference between lazy…”
Auto-suggestion took over.
The first word that filled in was “Depression”.
Another suggestion that caught my eye was “ADHD”
There in the list was what I was looking for
“How to tell the difference between laziness and tiredness”.
So we know, I know, that lazy can be more.
Lazy can be that learning-disabled brain
That can only compensate for so much.
Lazy can be the burnout that comes
After you’ve used all your energy 
Caring for everyone else.
Lazy can be that sense of dread
That holds you immobile.

It’s such an easy word to whip out
It doesn’t require any effort at all
In fact, it’s as if you are unwilling to do more
To lazy to understand why
Someone would sit on their couch unmoving.

Floyd

I know it’s ridiculous that I sit here uncomfortably
Squeezing into a space, barely enough for my tiny body.
I  take up a small piece of a couch cushion.
My old dog, joints stiff, sprawls out and sleeps
His slow, deep breath is steady.
His butt rests on my cushion, pressing into my leg.
For fourteen years I’ve felt his solid, warm touch.
He’s never wanted to be far from me.
At times it’s seemed that he wanted to crawl
Through my skin down to my very soul, 
So that he would be joined to me, 
More tightly than even my own shadow could be.
For him the world has turned dimmer.
His cloudy eyes can’t always find me
As he wanders through our house.
So, I wave my arm in the air
Flagging him down as if he was a taxi.
He no longer hears me call to him
Or even, the rustle a bag of food.
He never forgets when dinner is though
And he can smell the tiniest scrap of food. 
He has also learned that a thumbs-up sign
Means that I think he is a “good boy”.
When I do this, his whole face brightens 
His gray muzzle shaping a doggy grin.
We have bumped together through many years
Learning each other's moods and patterns.
Many times I rested my face against him
Reassured by his loving presence.
And he has pressed his face against my hand
Wanting to absorb all my affection.
So I will sit uncomfortably on this couch
And be thankful for the space he takes up.