so.

you’re back on the clock.

you’d forgotten
how to manage this.

things to relearn,
things to know:

once back on the clock
you want to be off the clock,
almost more than you
want and need the money
alloted to you by the clock.

everything 
ends up on the clock.

you curse the traffic on 
the way in more
than you curse it on 
the way home because 
the clock is taking notice
and brain and heart notwithstanding
it is counting money and pain
while you chafe there
in your car. 

once there everyone is friendly
and kind and it almost 
matters more than 
the clock.

almost.

you carry the clock
in a pocket
you didn’t know you had
in your brain.
you’ve heard it will  shift
and end up close to your heart.

people at work talk like
that’s where they keep theirs,
but watch them at day’s end
and see how fast they run
to the cars. their hearts
somehow slow down as they run,
their hearts somehow expanding,
beating bigger, like they have 
more room; as if the clock pocket
that was stuffed in next to them 
has opened.

no matter how large
the relief on payday
feels, it will never feel
like enough
to make you comfortable
living with that everlasting clock. 

you’re back on the clock
as if you never left.
as if you’d forgotten
how to manage this,
how to live like this
until you die like this.