Photo-Bouquet
Time. Time, it has been proposed, is the fourth dimension.
And yet, for mortal man, time has no dimension at all.
We are like horses with blinders,
seeing only what lies before us.
Forever guessing the future and fabricating the past.
Roebling from the movie Kate and Leopold
PHOTO-BOUQUET
His charm a ne’er do well,
when heaped upon the table,
fraught with wine and game of shells—
this knight in cocky sable.
Twilight, he twinkled apropos,
but his midnight dalliance dwindles.
His forthright tongue strikes a blow.
A courtly romance, he couldn’t kindle.
Inkwell and feather pen, in figure eight
precision, portends an indefensible apology.
He begs an overture by moonlight, Kate.
The oaf’s acumen engenders sparks flawlessly.
The maid of honor, enraptured with royalty.
Roof terrace violins, lanterns, and lavish table set.
Fairytale of time, the ambiance carefree.
Intermingled lives— daydreamers tête-à-tête.
Leopold leaps— she’s not sure she is capable.
Neither rich nor old-fashioned— a modern day
business woman yet her fate is inescapable.
With success in pocket, Kate unfolds a photo-bouquet.
Impossibility of simpatico in parallel places and times.
What else would make this lucrative lady jump?
The present spinning paradigm of past and life times.
Her existential leap— an aspiring broad jump.
The photos show Kate and Leopold in his time
where she’s never been — behold, fate’s sublime.
10/20/2021
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