Clocks That Run
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Clocks that Run
Backwards to my day.
I pray first and start off right.
I don’t think I will make it through,
if I do not. It is rough out there.
I fight my way
from sheets to the seat,
of my car.
I fight my way
out the drive,
down the street,
and to the place I live…
work.
I battle and decide changes,
and things that matter,
to no one that cares at all.
I break,
long enough to inhale bad air,
and cigarettes.
No changes
to the moment.
I finish late,
past 5:00
or 6:00
or 7:00
or…
Homeward.
Across the great divide.
The one
that is between me and living.
I go there to sleep and eat.
I think I have family there…
Somewhere?
I come back home
to do as I am told.
I need a new life,
or a new clock.
or both.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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