XXXVIII: daylight savings time

at this point i think i am inventing roman numerals
because counting up to infinity is tedious - the poems will continue to
spring forward: the weather cannot convince me of anything but uncertainty
and uncertainty is certainly the only certainty at this juncture.
searching for a clear transitional point is moot because
people are children, the best and the worst.
the best: youth, adventure, energy, hope for the future - simply put: potential.
the worst: immaturity, lack of perspective, selfishness - simply put: males.
just kidding. this is not a feminist poem. this is not even a poem.
this is
daylight savings time.
last night i lost an hour to the universe (i didn't even dream)
and in that hour i must have transitioned from a child to an adult
because i'm mapping out my future while my towels dry and the tea steeps
my bed is made and my bathroom's clean, my shoes are tied and my lunch is packed, my phone is charged and my bills are paid
and look, mom, i am you.