Wednesday, January 27, 2010

I am alive at Six Twenty-Five
and I travel in time all the time.
There is no other way.

Unlike prose with perfect diction,
time is never any writer's fiction.

Time moves much faster than seconds
While your emergent dream beckons
you to be true to the hope
it gave to you. The soap
waits in the bathroom
to wash the sleep
from your face
and you
go.

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