Huge time

(a, an, the, old article man in the coffeehouse is reading three verbs in today’s sad newspaper whispering the words softly out loud to himself as if praying to newsparing print, stories and politics, fashion and football results)

and then, the air force became too strong, too sudden, too careful in its way through, seeking lower faster soil and plains across old Roman thermal bath waters plumping mist
up into rain’s marriage so it reached back,
circling it’s prey without saying anything happy to join new relatives,
strangers arriving with the street,
the moisture captured from seas far away and they all danced like children,
circling, spinning out from nothing, evolving from the center of their stillness,
caressing bark, long extended sinlight sunlight
flaying onion skinned paper inside a black book

where people don’t listen
don’t really listen
don’t really care
sleeping with their eyes wide
open
struggling with anxiety
swallowing daily happy pills
wearing huge magnificent time watch
this machine on thin wrists

hand-me-down my walking stick

Peace.