A Measure of Time

timing is everything pretty much anytime anyhow anyplace morning noon or evening whatever the birth date no matter the season or how tight the G-string victuals and drink the chiefs of a good diet this old woman could not be quiet she wiped her clammy hands on a mellow yellow chiffon dress Circa 1959 timing is overdressed always never again maybe sometimes never thrice the aging colors of dusty dreams invite us to frolic but only briefly now that it's technical there are no more heroes this old lady only waved when she was yawning where had her archives gone into a lifetime of sea timing is to blame cooks faster than bacon doesn't stop and carries a knife hour after hour reaches out blinds us to see takes us half the way there days tripping over rock stars nothing is by accident in adjoining rooms that old lady never listened had many years of unread messages lost the keys to the Jeep waited for the next available rep timing held its breath up-to-the-minute it was no small matter prior days posted atop one another stealing sunshine never recoiling yesterday at sundown she crashed the ATV this old lady lived to skål joy rides at the speed of sound backward and past the contrasts always in a leopard pill-box hat timing had meant everything still in response to yesterday it was no grand prize a gray higgledy-piggledy shrub below the tidal noise standing in the doorway with poise blocking the Entrance that's what ^tiempo_ was cowbells and castagnettes this old lady kicked it in an instant such as this cursed by seasons of glare life kissed her feet in recompense timing and it's belongings had paced past and present and lasted but a moment in the vestibule by the portal there is a possessed clock it stages lifetime shifts every step you take up or down the staircase days weeks months years decades a life-span of keeping your eyes on it