“SPACE TIME,” a poem by Daniel Holland
Through the enchanted forest of postcards
I project frames
to each picture of time and space.
I can control what I do with time:
most of the time.
But what about an afternoon
of road construction delays?
Or, I'm waiting in line at the grocery store
and the cashier says, "Price check!"
Or, I'm waiting in line at the bank
and someone starts telling their
life story to the teller?
After a day like that,
I need time to have space.
No construction delays.
No waiting in line.
So, let me be spacey now.
Don't let me know
what time it is.
Because I'm in:
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