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“Wait for a sec.”
If you’d meant secretary, that would have been best
Because several lifetimes have begun and found their end-
Still, I wait.
It sucks being obedient.

“Hold on for a minute.”
But these fingers hurt like they found eternity in thirty seconds!
The blisters form,
Faith is further torn.
But who gets mad at fate
For being one minute too late?

“Give me an hour.”
Sadly, it’s not in my power.
My stores are empty-
Yes, I was robbed.
Those frames would have been timeless
Had I valued them enough.
If you find another supplier, that’d be great.
But I’ve got no extras on me-
Mine’s a very sad state.

That ever ticking, unforgiving constant, quizzes me smugly.
Is it really wort©h it?

The hours spent chasing transient material happiness or lengthy moments away, straining to keep sight of the diminishing family ties?

The countless cake candles blown out on behalf of an errant patriarch or the picture perfect moments captured missing one?

Relationships run aground for lack of deserved attention or genuine priorities lost in the hustle and bustle of daily routine?

I know the truth.
So I won’t bother to reply.
Rather i’d nail down the clock’s hands and deny reality.

Let me procrastinate a little while longer.
A few minutes.
An hour maybe.
A year perhaps.
Hopefully I’ll be able to make up for lost time, before the gray hairs become too evident.

Kwiksie & Sere, 2017


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