The thieves of time

love to hear themselves talk

a meeting that won’t end

trying to meet foolish expectations

no energy

waiting for a schedule

that never arrives

busying tasks of the day

get sluffed off

onto you

as the boa constrictor tightens

and your life is squeezed

the blood leaving your brain

until you can’t breathe

they eat your most important qualities

like delectable deserts

polite and fawning

while they taste your time

you are supposed to be okay with this

like it is only right

not to put up a fight

squeezed

you are the difficult one

trying to escape their grasp

in solitude

you might eat cherries,

drink coffee,

read literature,

enjoy nature

and they want more

complaining

everything they hate

they can’t see in themselves

lingering

like a hand in someone else’s pocket

50 percent of winning

is recognizing what matters

the other 50

is saying “No.”

When I become old

I’ll see them in the nursing homes

they’ll want to talk

and I won’t say anything

“Who are you to stay silent?” They might ask.

And I’ll walk away

They protest

about the stupidest things

but when it comes down to wasting their lives

they laugh

and they waste mine

Now I’m angrier

every day

and whoever said that patience was a virtue

believed in eternity.