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when you’re leaving a restaurant
don’t look back
there’s a busboy trying to make it look like you were never there
wiping away the conversation
disinfecting the laughter
stacking the stories into scrapheaps
to feed the trash compactor
I guess that’s why we etch our names in unsuspecting trees
or burden boulders with bad graffiti
or try as we might to resist fresh concrete
those cones and yellow tape are no barrier
to do something that’s not gonna be gone tomorrow
time only stands still in pictures
every pixel a broken promise
that it’s gonna be like this forever
we rub our thumbs slowly over them
boost the highlights, tame the shadows
pining for a light that we could shine in
where we’re not the same as our shadows
free from the heft of those pesky silhouettes
and lying likenesses
flying like we’re in
one of those light tunnels in sci-fi movies
perusing the beautiful confusing colors
like a child lost at a carnival
a story of stardust
trying to find the plot of these particles
they say if you travel near the speed of light for 10 years
when you come back
your friends will be 20 years older
so I guess you saved a decade
but you missed out on a lot of barbecues
24 hours in a day
I’d be okay with about 42
is it because I have so much more to do
or do I just want 18 hours more than you
a stitch in time makes a quilt
I just can’t seem to keep warm
under this patchwork continuum
purple hearts and black chrysanthemums
masterfully crocheted within the seams of dreams
but who’s pedaling this sewing machine anyway
maybe Einstein was right
time just keeps everything from happening at once
why are humans the only ones keeping track of it
like what if the sun dialed and nobody answered it
or the hours escaped from the glass and shattered it
what if we turned our backs to the future
and saved the plutonium for another day
father time is fleeing again
leaving me an orphan
the short hand is creeping north again
I’m just trying to keep awake
so worried
I don’t know if these are tears or fears
I just know it’s blurry
still, as I struggle to smuggle starlight into keepsakes
I can’t seem to shake the feeling
that we won the sweepstakes
I once read a novella about time eaters
thousands of little carnivorous creatures
that feast on the past
as soon as we leave now behind
perpetually hungry for our leftovers
but i’d rather feed them shards of metal from the grind
than cheesecake
so it’s fine
go ahead and set the new silverware
get the chairs properly prepared for the next pair of jeans
my story doesn’t end there
and it started long before the doors opened to your eatery
but thanks for the scenery
and the french fries
