Wasted Time

You’d think that after New Year’s boozy kisses,
Back-slapping, and effusions in confetti,
The last hors-d’oeuvres and passes at the Mrs.
Beneath the hanging cardboard amoretti,

Time would relax, agree to stay a while,
Hang up his sandals, lay aside his shift,
And sleep it off until the chamomile
Light has suffused the blinds; but Time’s too swift

For that one, you palooka, look at how
Steady he is, rock-solid, never mind
The rocking on his feet, he’s sober now,
He’s at the door, he says, You’ve been too kind,

I’ll take the wheel, stop whining, fairest creatures,
Been doing this since Remus founded Rome,
And concentrates on hardening his features,
Jangling his keys, ready to drive us home.

—Stephen Kampa