It's been another one of those days, hasn't it?
Another in that long and drab procession
of days that never seem to change,
except that some rain harder and colder than others.

But there's something you've failed to notice
-- all of those bored days and wasted days,
those half-chewed-and-spat-back-out days,
days spent playing solitaire
or truant
or Devil's advocate,
those days you never thought you'd miss --
they're all gone now,
and gone too
all the things you might have done with them.
You could do them now,
if you chose to,
but you already know,
it wouldn't be the same.
It wouldn't balance the books
or get back even an instant
of the time you wished away,
the time you toyed with
and left uneaten on your plate.

Clouds pile up tenement-like on the horizon,
swollen with rain and unpaid bills.
You've been a spectator for too long.
Get in the game
or leave the table.

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