Don’t think about time schedules
when you can box up your day
by color or space:
“I have to be red
by the next quarter acre,
then it’s on to orange.”
Renting out parcels of time
to people who think they might use it well –
“This hectare for three hours,
now go!”
Things seem infinitely valued
once paid for.
The expectation of subdivisions
and quarterly reports
excludes accidental meetings
in forgotten parts of the afternoon.
I’m shunted through
the day of work,
not stopping
to listen to the rising bread
that demands my full attention –
a love without tempting distractions
of the clock
and Friday morning reprimands.
Before any of this is that
half hour square yard
in the infinite meadow of today
when sheer sitting
on a bench I’m not supposed to
reveals lives not mine,
outside my rent-a-corner,
and the girl with the Frisbee
whom I will never know
forces a unique remembrance.
