IN AN HOUR Timothy Dicesare It's Friday at three and I'm leaving at four which is already earlier than when I should be leaving but I've just browsed Digg all day because those schematics and that code and the testing can wait until Monday and I've gotten up for water refills seven times since lunch and gone to pee ten times today and stood unzipped at the urinal and waited until someone else walked in to zip back up and leave because it kills an extra thirty to ninety seconds and that's around point two five percent of the workday and this last hour feels like the week but that five minutes this morning between the alarms is a second
and in that second I thought of sex and life and love and that girl who I don't remember now and she did something but the memory of her shrunk back to size before I knew what it was and I go to take another sip from my Styrofoam water cup and blow some bubbles until I can barely breathe and I'm lightheaded but it's never as good as weed and the cup's not a substitute for a bong nor the dream for sex nor time killing for reading nor the job for a life and it's still not even close to four