Daylight Savings: A Poem

Yesterday I went to have my taxes done (joy of joys) and though Ian, the receptionist, and I were there on time, my accountant was an hour late, thanks to the time change.  So in honor of daylight savings, a poem:

You are on tequila

and I am on love.

I watch the pinstripes of your sheets

crumple and twist

as we lay

with a relentless sun

pushing through the cracks

of the blinds

to join us.

An extra hour

and I am trying to listen to you breathe,

but the stupid clock

that I bought you

is ticking just loudly enough

to remind me

that I am on borrowed time.

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