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sit still in the quiet
limbo that exists between 3AM & 4AM.
that ambiguous hour in which birth
& death hold hands.
and your words change from "way
late" to "really early."
is midnight the end of one day &
the beginning of the next?
that's just what the clock says,
with its spread white face &
eyes thrown wide.
if the clock's hands weren't always
chasing time round & around,
i'd like to think that it's hands
would be open, palms up
with shoulders shrugged, muttering,
"i don't know when one day ends
or another day begins. i
just work here."
the roosters know.
biding their time as the dark skirt
of night
swishes over. occassionally
rustling & fluffing their feathers,
& reliving swatches of conversations
from the previous day.
they know. they're ready.
when the right shade of grey slides
into the sky,
they screech their ERR song.
my mom always hears,
"al nii' ii-OOOOOOOooooo!" (it
points to the middle)
i think people know,
in that deep primordial goo of
their mind.
cause this is when the shifts change,
& the night owls clock out
& the early birds clock in.
the lights at the junction silently
blink
green, yellow, red to an empty
pavement.
the black hooded sweatshirt &
Converse tennis shoe people either
go home, or find a warm corner
to occupy.
then it starts all over.
and you hear the mine workers slamming
the doors
on their brand new extended cab
trucks with a nice solid chunk.
and the engines rev, & the
cars purr
with amber dinosaur eyes shining
in the blackness.
eventually a slow trickle of Goodyear
& Michelin rubber
sings on the pavement.
i must know.
because this is when most of my
nightmares happen.
the heather grey & aubergine
sky, & dancing Venus in the east
are my witnesses. watching
me thrash frantically up out
of the deep, dark, saline ocean
of sleep.
this transaction time must be the
time when dew falls on the grass.
perhaps tears of sadness for the
passing of one day.
perhaps tears of joy for the creation
a new day.
i can smell the wetness, but no
matter how still or how long i sit,
heart racing & breath ragged,
i never see it fall,
and it never falls on me. |
