The Distance Between

Trying to forget about time.
That seconds
bleed into minutes,
into hours.
That somewhere, on a line,
there is a point
waiting for me.
This moment should exist,
pure and unencumbered
by mounds of ticks
or blankets of tocks.
Yet my ability to exist,
here and now
fails me,
as does the sun
as it rises higher,
robbing me of
my moment in amber.
So I curse,
brew coffee
and start the day,
lest it start without me.