Call in

Asking myself how
I should feel in my day.
I can call this my day,
Right? That’s what everyone
Tells me. Symbol syncopations
drumming to soundness, and measures
I can follow. Light through fences,
Someone’s here. It’s their day too.
Don’t have to share.
Not if the races stay inward, in
from cumulus cannon.
Track dirtied by thought flood,
so I’m the joke. Happy birthday.
I was sold, I bought.
Now I feel jester-y.