At the thinning of the year
Now that daylight seems embarrassed
And skulks between wet street lights,
Euphoria, hibernating,
Is dimmed to warmth and comfort,
And the clocks must pay for
The sweaty, pulse-party of August.
And there it goes, the hour turns...
Sixty minutes of one a.m. come again
Like a half-intended gift.
Awake, I try to appreciate
This second chance to make
The hour even better this time.
But I'm a time-waster, an idler
And a daydreaming dawdler.
What do I know of seconds
Used to perfection? In the end
I lie awake. Go to pee. Pick fluff
From an ageing belly button.
Worry about money.
Pretend to whistle.
Ignore an erection.
Pee again.
Tell myself old jokes
And remember happiness.
One more hour in a life of hours
Filled with remembered happiness.
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