Patio Talk

It doesn't feel like Friday.
It feels like exactly a week
since I fell asleep
on the last day
I was closer to my birth
than my death.
How do I know
that I will live to be seventy?
I don't.
But my path no longer feels
like I am calculating
how long it has been
since I set out.
I am counting the miles
and how long it will take to stop
at each of the roadside attractions
on my way back home.