from here
over the next hill
all the way to the horizon,
like a vast, green expanse,
nothing to do
but stay in my bed if I want,
TV on or off, read & write,
go down to the computer.
after a few days
—because somehow we're always travelling—
the horizon's changed,
scattered with famililar obligations.
Time, you burglar,
I can't even see you,
it's not a fair fight!