ticks (obviously)
performs
a one-man rendition of Faustus.
controls.
your immediate future
resides
inside the head of the man with one finger on the pulse of society and the other on the trigger.
is
ahead of the game.
waits patiently in the shadows
with or without your acknowledgements…
grabs you
when you are not looking. rifles through your pockets for any loose change.
pretends to be on your side (with its minute-hand around your shoulder like a pal
but stuffs the blade into your back with the hour-hand)
disguises itself as money.
takes her own sweet time at the DMV yet races at breakneck pace when on vacation.
tells of tiny romances and innocence
in a box of photos tucked away in a dusty storage closet.
reminds
us
of the finite and not-so-finite…of our mortality and someone else’s immortality…
bastard-child of the sun and the moon and great-grandson to the universe and charged with the blinking history of man.
pays no heed to the laws of gravity and can exist
outside time.
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