Time and Nine to Five

I'm at my desk
working the paper into contract knots
when you call with some questions
about a time I barely remember

The boss with his slips
is pacing in the background of my reined voice
but you tell me this is something 
I have to take care of now
and not after five
and not before nine

My cubicle is now under fire with wandering 
colleagues searching for someone to pie chart with
and I mention to you about the numbers
in order to avoid detection, unwanted connection
which changes your tone as

you scream loud enough to wake
    the paper weights
followed by a soft cry like i've never heard from you
    or other humans
and then suddenly I wish it was closer to five
so I could hold you until nine

and I think but don't say
that my time with you
has been like touching the sea