Ah, a day to myself.
This morning, I spread
To the sides of my bed
With fingers and toes
Like a starfish.
I made pancakes, just three:
Mental maths says an odd number cannot be split
With any one other than me.
Hours stretch out before me.
I’ll do things I like
And some that bore me.
If I’m lucky, I’ll tell them apart.
If I’m lucky, I’ll lose track of time.
I’ll be late for myself – I can miss my own date
And still be in charge of forgiving.
Still hours are hours spent living.
The clock pulses on, and it will,
Though it does nothing for me.
It’s a mean time, ignoring the world –
So today, in the nicest way,
World, you can ignore me.
Tonight, I will have done
A hundred things, or none.
I’ll open the window, watch goers to bars,
And end the day breathing
And fishing for stars.