the hours

today the hours are thick, my tongue foggy.

words flow like molasses, or tar, stuck on my teeth.

i would chase after them but they have nowhere to go;

they won’t get far in this lazied moment

without direction, a misallocation of effort.

i hoped they would run wildly skeltered without a leash

but they sniff the air, turn in circles, and drop to the floor.

i thought if i took a walk it would help clear my mind

but i walked too far; it took too long –

now i’m too tired to think of playing fetch,

grooming your coat, speaking discipline or encouragement.

i don’t even care if you hop on the couch unannounced,

though i suppose that would be fine, and we’d fall asleep and dream.