Clocks
The older I get, the more my counter fills up with bottles of pills.
Just like my room fills up with clocks, all set a minute apart, just so when 11:11 arrives I could have more time to wish for less pills.
But I can't make more time. I learned that when I needed more counter space.
Time keeps rushing forward.
And 11:11 isn't a point in time made for wishes.
It's the time for pill-taking.
So I swallow each one down like they are a year of my life and realize that neither are coming back.
