When DST kicked in
The door of November
Earth shook with time and temp.
The river covered itself with broken clothing.
The moon was but a stolen egg.
Those of us suing Energy
Foamed butane therms
At the incalculable mouth.
Rabid with due dates
We had the delinquent notion
To run our ceiling fans
Counter-clockwise in winter;
To share the hot air fair.
As if at a hot dog stand
Along Labrador Coast in summer.
Drunk on the boardwalk,
Running short on ketchup,
And seriously pissed off
About the weather back home.
The Writing of John B. Randall 