If life is proportional to time,
the first day is a whole life.
The second day is youth and old age.
The third day is both of those
and a middle life
where you labor and wonder
and watch dreams dissolve.
The fourth day is a time and place
where you have a shore,
and look back at your footsteps
and have seasons.
Ninety-six hours,
and then you engage each morning
until after years of love and slaughter,
a day doesn’t make a difference anymore,
and you have a choice to go or stay,
laugh or cry,
be wise or stupid,
or do what a person has to do,
walk into the waters of the sea
and feel your life rush out,
and wonder where the mermaids are.