round and round and round and round
each day the same, slowly racing toward nightfall, slow hour by slow hour, a snail’s minute
the day like thick molasses or treacle, a numbness, a lethargy
the daily dailiness, dilly, dally, learn, learn, learning
leaning on me
some minutes sweet, some minutes bitter or sour or loud or quiet
its all the same. to me. not to them. to me,
maybe i can remember in my old age, my dotage
maybe, maybe