Time
Three days ago.
43 minutes began.
To count down.
I hear it.
Time continues.
And holds on.
43 minutes ago.
Was when I started my day.
Days, and days, and days.
Eyes endlessly blinking.
Then the prodding continues.
46 minutes ago.
I remember things.
Like hanging up my coat.
Again, and again.
My coat is probably disintegrated by now.
I hate how minutes.
Are trying to deceive me.
Five days ago.
I ate breakfast.
So clearly, I had pancakes.
I ate a hundred pancakes.
I’m convinced that a pancake is following me.
Five days and four hours ago.
I was driving in my car.
I didn’t die or something.
But something happened.
The eclipse or something.
It followed me home.
43 minutes.
I stood a few feet from here.
Looking at myself hanging my coat, I am glaring at my future self.
Getting nothing done.
My feet are holding me up uncomfortably.
Feet going numb.
She gave me a call.
Two minutes ago.
When the 43 minutes started.
I let it go to voicemail.
I think they are evil and about to come through the portal.
43, 46 minutes, 4 hours, and five, three days.
And I still haven’t hung up my coat.
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