falling out of practice, of silencing alarms and stumbling to the shower of matching shoes to skirt and scarf to blouse, willy nilly dash to desk days run neck and neck galloping for the checkered flag, no, the finish line where clocks are punched morning and evening, and mondays aren’t mistaken for tuesdays or heaven forbid, fridays. appointments keep their allotted places and there is no need to ask, “what day is this?”
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 