Spent

As soon as they lose an hour the kids will stay up later and writing more or raking their hair back off their faces and thinking more about sex with strangers and strangers with candy and every summer that can be counted-those not spent sick, or at some dreary indoor daycamp will suddenly come flying back in a cold red drink one evening or maybe the mouth upon waking stops tasting like someone else's, and starts every day
instead
with birthday cake and chlorine.

As soon as this hour is lost there is no sobering. No early bed. It's time to think about fire on rooftops and falling away under some blanket in some small smaaallll room planning. The winter spent planning, right? The summer for the walking dreams. The walking dreamers walk more, remember less and document every blank moment.

Too much bed makes a man go crazy.
Too much bed makes a woman go mad.
Who can sleep in the summer
with the window humming
and the brown people working too hard,
the white people pretending not to care
or pretending to be poor
which seems to be the same sort of exercise
in restraint.
?

One less hour to plot,
one more minute spent in wasting
what is every day and should be.
Who thinks war strategy is fun?
Is there a plan for insanity
and if so is it the same plan
that brings up a wedding
and if so is it the same plan that screams...?
Time!
Time!
Time!

And when the hour comes home
like a fat dancer-
with the wide stain of tears
on her suitcase
and the wide creak of cum
in the hinges
maybe the year ends there
since we've all been saving up for living
and are suddenly spent.