I look at the calendar
big gaping holes of time
opening up to suck me in.
A whole year to get through
and all I want to do
is order tater tots
and tell that table of girls
to stop laughing
so fucking loudly.
It’s already February
but this year seems to be
droning on forever.
How is it then
that you turn around
on the eve
of your 28th birthday
and wonder where
all the days went?
The passage of time
torments so slowly
you could almost
stop to ask it why
it chose you its
unwilling victim.
They say time marches on
but to whose beat
I wonder?
Who got to choose
the tempo
and why am I
always running
to catch up?
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