Why I Can't Be a Functional Adult

Listening to You and I by Ingrid Michaelson 
Wondering why I can't manage to make better use of my time





A functional adult I'll never be
This one fact I could almost guarantee.
The sound of my alarm on deafened ear
Grows louder every moment, more austere, 
Until, as Fate intends, I jolt awake, 
And wonder if a shower I could take
And still be timely to my morning class,
If bathing right away I should not pass.
While tardiness, I know, is impolite,
I fear if wandering eyes on me alight
Without a chance my hair and face to paint,
A simple glance may cause them to feel faint.
Unconscious students would cause more disrupt 
Than my belatedness, howe'er abrupt,
Instead of ugly-caused chaos create,
I'd rather shower and be slightly late.


Two reasons more that timely I'll not be
are due in part to time discrepancy,
For of the six clocks which each day I read,
Not two of them the same time are agreed. 
My bedside table clock's a minute slow, 
Meanwhile the stove top clock through time does blow.
The worst, perhaps, in terms of tardiness,
Would be how far my car's clock does digress,
For while it is four hours far behind, 
To be eight minutes fast it seems resigned. 
I also tend to underestimate 
The time from home to school to navigate,
As well as mastering the central deck,
For parking there is somehow still a wreck,
And though the signs to park or leave are clear,
I manage every time from them to veer.

Now, to end my temporal swings
From tardiness to missing things
A writer's life is one for which I'll wait
For each night spent with pen and ink
Would mean a day to sleep or think,
For on my own clock I'll operate.

And now, to procrastinate...