Tuesday, April 10, 2012
There are only so many miles in a day.
She watches them click by
flipping over like a pre-digital electric clock
fwap - fwap - fwap!
To curb hunger costs four miles.
If you want to eat downtown
you starve for a couple days
to gain ground.
Her body is shaped like eternity
and the miles run like grains
through the narrow opening of allowance
building as they do,
in steady accumulation.
There are twenty miles left to the month
and everything is drawn in
to a balancing act,
hands weighing options as if they were fruit
Which is more miles per pound?
She knows her miles are numbered
and that the favorable ones roll quickly
while the painstaking take too long.
Yearning for coffee
she decides the three miles just aren't worth it.
Tomorrow she may need to take a detour.
Detours are costly.
Damn riot cost her eight miles today.
Tomorrow she'll stop time.