There was just a little more to do, he was sure of that
It shouldn’t take long, but that was the same thing he said three hours ago
Now he was still in his chair staring at the computer monitor, wondering how to kill all the bugs
You would think it was a gargantuan task, but he liked his job and to him it was…
Counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds was painful
Letting my emotions swing back and forth, back and forth, twisting my gut in knots
Observing how life seems to move in slow motion making breathing difficult
Can’t seem to make those hands spin any faster, even if I stare so hard at the thing I go blind
Killing time sounds like it would be easy, but now I realize time is killing me instead
Giving money away like it was going out of style
Reaching deep into their wallet to make everything happen
And boy did they. They were a walking talking party
From sunup till way past sundown, sometimes for twenty-four hours straight
Then one day their aunt realized where her money was going, and he suddenly had none.
Making traditional Mexican sauces always made Maria smile
Of course, her Abuela made them so well that she should really sell them, but she wouldn’t
Leading to Maria secretly recording the kitchen for the next 24 hours
Everyone will suspect her brother when the recipe gets sold, but she was going to be the…
She smelled easy money in the air
Everyone was all beer, pizza, and Buffalo winged out.
Now she felt it was time for her to execute her plan while they were in the drunken gluttony afterglow
So fellas, listen up. What do you say we have a little side wager on the game?
Everyone agreed. Two hours later she was seen five hundred dollars richer
So much of the white stuff littered the ground that
No trace of anything else was in view
Obscuring the need to go anywhere else
While consuming hours moving it from one place to another
He thought he knew exactly what to do
Until he found out the hardware wouldn’t work
Being too smart for his own good he whipped up something new
Realizing that was a wasted four hours because he had just simply wired the original backwards
It had worked all the time if he had just opened his eyes and slowed down
So much for a calm Sunday
Yearning to wear soft cashmere sweaters
Asking others to make them for me seems silly since I could make one
Reaching for my knitting needles I start my first stitch
Now after five hours, and not getting past stitch three, I pick up the phone and call…
Flying by quicker than a speeding bullet
And laughing at how slow that bullet really is
Seconds and minutes turn into hours before you know it
That is the type of speed that kills productivity
Scurrying thoughts running crazy inside his head
Put him on his mental treadmill, trying to exercise them away
Reaching an exhaustion level that would allow him to fall unconscious
It sometimes worked, but tonight the ideas and thoughts were too fast
Not that he gave up dashing after them, but waking hours passed slowly
That’s what made the alarm the next morning such a rude starting pistol for the new day
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 