I miscalculate the hour.
It slips through my fingers,
the seconds I was supposed to wait for you,
a week or two, six months, a year,
several centuries.

I am nothing if not patient,
but it's hot here in the noon sun.
The road crackles and bursts into flames.
I cannot see you for the smoke, it fills my throat.
My watch has started to run backwards.

You have kidnapped me
from the security of nine to five,
the certainty of New Year's Eve.
There are other calendars after all,
the red dragons breathe their own years.

According to the moon,
we are already past the future.
I search for you in the stars,
wild animals race across my eyes.
You shoot out of sight, a trail of supernovas.

I walk the heavens looking for clues.

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