Stuck in a moment.

Someone called from Sydney
to tell me
their summer has come
and they have moved
an hour ahead of me.
In New York,
a friend wakes up
to winter,
an hour behind,
to save some sunlight.
I sit here
somewhere in the middle
with no change
of time
of weather
of seasons.
My clock still ticks the same
and my sun still shines
as much as yesterday
or tomorrow.
I sit here
tolerating this non-change,
this emptiness of no seasons,
this stillness of the air and
of the mind.
I sit here
writing about trivial things
like shoes and drinking,
to avoid questions
from those I know,
and to ignore concern
from those I dont.