Today the wind. Last day of daylight saving time, whatever the hell that means. I read and get more confused about it. The wind wagging strings of unlit light bulbs in the sun, against the awnings. The bar door open like a barn, dead leaves skittering across the wooden floor, leaves gathering in corners near trash cans and underneath tables. The wind whips a customer's hair about her face; she presses it back to sip her drink. To shift toward her drinking partner. I move all day without stopping because then what? I've had ringing in my head and ears for weeks, but today, now, what I hear is wind.