Memories of a past work life
hardly casual, flexible support
I never rested enough. 'Twas an agony to wake to the alarm of a fresh morning in the dark, failing to fool with snoozes. Never enough time to finish all I wanted to the night before, the undone spilling forth into the terms and semesters ahead, becoming dead clutter that piled the years; the necessary and the meaningful both unresolved and piling, piling.
I rarely made it on time. This slow body could not sit down for a decent breakfast, could not get the earlier buses and trains, but at least, could no longer afford the cabs that could not be booked, the taxis through the traffic that could not arrive.
Slow body made to move fast, the heart pounded in dread and panic for deadlines that could not be met, for events that would already have started, for the incriminations that we were all here before you. But I am ever ahead of you, in perceiving the artificial rigidity of all these compulsive time slots!
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