I find it difficult to finish the day
Because the hustle of the day leaves me
With little change, but i still dig hard
To find that one-cent coin I don't have
So that tomorrow's change won't come in all sorts of odd shapes
That do not stack up properly in my world.
So i let the minutes run by
My eyes open, neither asleep nor awake
Tired from navigating, having brought home
The rest of the body, now collected in a pile
Until some strange courage tucks me into bed and whispers in my ear
That it's alright to leave the rest of everything left undone,
That Tomorrow will come to me as generously as today had -
And the thing is,
I already know that
From the countless nights I had watched
The nights deepen into mornings that do not
Leave me any more comforted.