Poetry: Alarm

For about 12 years I spent two hours or more a day commuting to work, just sitting in traffic 10 hours a week, 40 hours a month!  This poem is a window into that “zombiefied” lifestyle, something I’ve been freed from for over three years.  How wonderful to have that time returned to me:

Watching the clock
waiting for time to
catch up with me:
Breakfast time.
Traffic time.
Working time.
Lunch time
More working time
Leaving time… finally here.
Time drags along
like a leashed cat
never taught to heel
Coming home late
the house dark
My kitchen smells like
the dinner missed
Opening a window
a breeze floats in
scent like rain on the black top,
dust and wet at the same moment
Pouring myself into bed
next to one already asleep
a new rhythm starts.
Breath bellows in and out
Fresh replacing exhausted
In a room absent of fluorescent
Moon glowing through
slits of blinds
patterns across the nightstand
where the alarm clock sits
Not a clock only
nor an alarm, but both.
It’s red eyes watching
as I toggle its hated button
Alarm clock: sound and visual aide
that announces my next destination.
A location I’ve purchased no ticket for
but a price has been paid.
Eyelids close
Mind opens
Dreams dreamt,
too quick to absorb
Time races out of the gate!
I am the slow one now…
5 a.m. comes too early.
Quickly get on the carousel!
Around I go into another day,
following the sun,
while wishing for the moon.

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