Time is a convention. Daylight savings time is a trick of the devil.
That said, just before daylight savings time is the worst, Jerry: the worst.
We’ve reached the doldrums, I guess.
This season really gets to me;
it requires more rest
just to make it through the fitful afternoons.
Salt mines, coal mines, my mind’s blinded by blue screens
and pipe dreams of evening and autumn—
or at least nighttime in the spring
when we can dry out.
But for now it’s the ocean in the afternoon:
still, grey, and cold;
we grow old under a sun the same.
On our boat, we stagnate and stall,
losing ourselves in the monotony of it all
on the rocking seas.
Rock me to sleep!
Ha! Another pipe dream to end the afternoon.
Give me evening! Give me autumn!
Give me summer and spring—
give me anything to keep us afloat,
to strengthen the sun,
and shorten our days on this damned boat.
Ocean gods of sky and sea,
we beseech thee!
Move us forward through the waves.
Save us that we may some day be free
and forever rest easy out of the doldrums.