8:30 p.m. is the magic hour
My brain teleports to a parallel universe
Where I am not myself
In that universe,
I don’t watch TV
I don’t listen to podcasts
I don’t take naps
I don’t sleep much
I don’t play Frozen Free Fall
And I certainly don’t forget to write a poem every day in April.
In that universe,
I go to Jazzercise every day
I write a textbook
I master JavaScript
I complete Adobe certifications
I bake cookies for new families at church
I send birthday cards to 349 Facebook friends
By 9:30, plans are concrete
Lists are complete
“I can live in that universe,”
I lie to myself as I drift off to sleep
And maybe for an hour, maybe for a day
I visit that universe and I pave a few bricks
Of my good-intentioned road
But that universe is exhausting,
And post-visit, I must take a nap.
