rock paper and mostly scissors

It's 12:31am and he's telling me about Satan and papers that send you sideways for two years,
and the striped socks and her shirt that I only wear because it's nearly to the knees
and she said something about chicken legs
and I want to write about feelings
but I'm out of them.

It's 12:37am and I'm hearing British singers across a YouTube channel
and the lightbulb burned out
and the last time I slept on downy sheets that smelled cleaner than the bathtub
Matisse was here
and I wasn't sleeping.

It's 12:39 and I only asked the time because I wanted to hear you say 11:12pm
and maybe you didn't catch that
but thank you
thank you
thank
you
for keeping the eyes dry all day
and the burnout process easier on the lungs
and my ribcage isn't sore any longer
because your heart rate is the same

it hasn't changed.

It's still familiar.

It's 4:16pm and the days get longer every time the goodbyes crack the shell of morning
and the crepe batter runs into lunchtime
and the dishes still need to be washed.

It's still 4:16pm and I'm reading the book he gave me.

Now it's 4:20pm so turn up.

But soon it will be 7:30pm and the idea of cars along the road and shorts
and loose shirts
and tennis shoes
it's another day of brushy hands and inside jokes that never make it past the eye contact
and half-hugs and the secret reminders.

I'm not heartbroken,
I'm sad about the girls trips that keep getting stolen by my mother's violent need for me to work
when papa said I didn't have to.

But I've always wanted to shake the money off and make my own.

It's 4:27pm and the minutes are turning into dollars
I cried for the baby who wouldn't sleep on the bed
and I'm too young to worry about things like this
but Mama said minutes are money and now I'm afraid I'll turn into a machine that can't spend a dime
because the time and the money weren't worthy of each other.

It's 4:29pm and the sirens just passed my house
Somebody stopped breathing
so I'm lucky.

It's 4:32pm and I'm done writing about my heart.

It's 5:22pm and maybe I'm just writing to fill in the blanks.