What’s left of my day:
the blather of lawn mowers,
a momentary train,
the mail carrier, her mace
& scrap paper,
Jehovah’s Witnesses, nothing
I count on-
it is like I’ve been left
behind, me sitting on a stump
beside this house,
only five cigarettes,
& I’ve lost my keys-
it is almost night,
there’s thunder in the drizzle-
another train coming,
carrying things somewhere,
what does it matter where it goes;
there’s nothing in those places-
dogs are barking, teaching me
about distance, & you love,
you aren’t coming home
tonight.
K.C. Clarke
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tomorrow-is-a-long-time/
