Fall back, spring ahead. Fall back. Spring ahead.
This time we were told to spring ahead. But I don't want to. Or I can't, or I don't know.
I'd rather fall back.
Fall back to Paris in June, when the biggest problems were indigestion and rainstorms.
Fall back to Rome in May, when I remembered how much I loved my life, and couldn't get back to it fast enough.
Fall back to unnamed, unnoticed Jersey City mornings of sleeping through the alarm, walking the dog, and eating too many pastries.
Someone in the waiting room asks,
"Are we gaining an hour or losing one?"
Always losing one.