The Death of a Calendar

Formal persistence ranged from one half hour block
To the next. Math was: time to next glass walled 
Room, swapped to one lighted pane with every
Room. I will be there, again and again, was the
Job description. Recur, reschedule, late to join.
Apologies, thanks, see you soon. Internal mailbag
Filled with confirmations and numbers; guttural 
Rumbles on streets time zones apart but ported
Together. Reclusion is the do-over that leads to
A new time place. Order of events narrows to 
Disappearance, time of day becomes a matter
Of the sun, became. Once upon an hour, I
may return, but not until a lot of nothing has
Blocked out the working hours, nine to five below.