I wake as the sun sets, stretching my limbs
and the day draws to a close.
The morning dew evaporates from the grass,
soaking back into the earth.
I brush my teeth, the toothpaste retreating into the tube.
Breakfast reappears on the plate,
the crumbs leaping back into the muffin.
I dress, the clothes unfurling from my body.
Out the door, I reverse my steps,
my feet retracing the path homeward.
The car rolls backwards down the driveway,
refilling with gas.
I retrace my route, the traffic lights blinking
green then yellow then red.
Pedestrians flow upstream, jaywalking in reverse.
At work, the files sort themselves,
documents untyping, pens uncapping.
The clock spins counter-clockwise,
the day unfolding in reverse.
Lunch reappears,
the sandwich reconstructing itself bite by bite.
I clock out, my badge unchecking me in.
Driving home, I watch the sun rise,
the dawn chorus falling silent.
The day rewinds, the hours rewinding.
I disrobe, the clothes leaping off my body.
I brush my teeth, the toothpaste retreating.
I climb into bed as darkness falls,
drifting off as the world resets itself.
Tomorrow, I will wake as the sun sets,
and begin again.
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