a grounder to the shortstop

ten minutes left to get the word
down.
why not, I’ve punched many
timeclocks.
haven’t been getting my
sleep.
next day I drive the freeways
just as swiftly
but more on edge
taking a dislike to the other
drivers.
poor way to start a damned
day.
I will get under the covers
before one p.m.
tonight.
seven minutes left to get the word
down.
suppose it were the last seven
minutes of my life,
what would I say?
nothing.
sure.
death was never the problem
anyhow.

bad music on the radio.
five minutes left.

hell, I’m going to stop four
minutes early.
I’m in control.

let the gods rattle somebody
else’s Venetian
blinds.

good night.