Trick Tick Tok

Again, November. Again, soon December. Again, I remember.
The clock, though it no longer ticks, clicks on, ahead //
a head behind // ahead // of those orderly aligned behind its
pressing compression snugly holding us hostage to
the threat of our own smoldering imaginations leaping
over control lines and rising from the ashes of adolescence
long lost in the sallow sky, hidden beyond sediment and soot–
—there it goes the time ticking trick tick tok, tick tok or treat.
November, again. December soon, again. I remember, again.
The reckless, cruel, unstoppable flame, scattering embers
igniting the dull, dry, desperate world ablaze in rageous fit //
The afterglow, crusts of orange whispering to sleep on
whatever it is that remains here is all that’s left of me,
in November, again—soon, December, again, I remember,
the air grows thick, and hot, and charcoal grey, and,
I remember November, I remember it all, again.