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.