I slit hundreds of Saturdays

right down the middle

of their tight tapestries of possibilities

for how I could reconstitute myself

from the ashes of another week.

Events evaporate,

focuses change,

and time reminds me 

that I should be the one

in control of choosing

how I waste my life. 

Only other commitments

replaced prior positionings of my hours

until, when given my freedom,

oh so sparingly,

I don’t remember how to use it. 

These changes were never upgrades,

for I bartered other hours

only to realize afterwards

that I am allowed to do nothing

and have no feelings 

about doing so, too.