Mismanaged Time

The sidewalk was steaming from the heat of the day,

and my suit jacket weighed like a heavy, dark sin.

I was three houses down, almost tucked away,

when I heard the plastic rhythm begin.

That quick, clicking pulse of a mechanical heart,

then the cold, silver arc caught the toe of my shoe.

It didn't care that I’d played every part,

or that my day was finally, mercifully through.

I stood in the spray of the neighbor’s front lawn,

getting soaked by a timer that didn't know the hour.

The schedule was set, but the logic was gone,

leaving me dripping and stripped of my power.