The mirror of time shows us only ourselves in the present.
There are no meters on the avenue of time. But when I parked
there a policeman immediately chalked my tire. It’s not like
you can stay here forever, he said, putting the small notebook
in his pocket. Would you want to know when he’d come back?
You could spend all day screwing in the light bulb of time.
Your eyes go bad just as the book of time is getting interesting.
The extra value meal of time is cold when you open the bag.
The middle school slow dance of time has the guitar solo
that you cannot figure out how to slow dance to.
The feral cat of time pees on the boxwoods outside.
There is a stuffed frog of time that I cannot locate
from the recent move. In the driving rain tonight
an owl exploded in front of my headlights
up from the dark road with a piece of something’s past
in its claws as it flapped backwards to avoid my car.
In my rearview mirror of the future I could see
we are all just creatures on the road.
It takes a long time to learn to play the piano.
Nobody plays the piano of time for just this reason.
This one lingers. Just beautiful, Jeff.
I’m just hoping that no one takes up the banjo of time…
Fascinating reflections here. Words coming from moods of this fall season? Fall always reminds me of time fleeting….
Really enjoyed this one!
Thanks Lillian. Yes, fall is always a thought-inspiring time, especially about time.
Stairway to Heaven is the *worst* middle school (and high school) slow dance with that (amazing, but) up-tempo outro. In case you didn’t know.
I wuz thinking about that very song, because of my many middle school failures with it. Yet, it is like still the greatest song ever. So curious, this world…
Great poem, Jeff. I have sad news to tell you: Paul West died in the night on the 18th. The funeral is tomorrow morning. Sorry to use your site for this news — Drop me an e-mail when you can.