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Date Posted: 05:33:54 09/13/03 Sat
Author: Vassar
Subject: Driving to work at 9:45

The day ground past
Like each one before,
But time wasn't moving
On the side of Burn Road.
Sunbeams fell
And dust swirled on,
But not in those eyes.
In those eyes,
Time was merely whirling cloth.
Hand to hand.
Minute to minute.
The universe lost inside those folds.

And what do I say,
As I glance through glass?
What do I do?
What do I do
As time and matter flow past?

It's all right there
In your tossing hands.
It's all right there,
And you own it all.

There's a pale white shred,
Always in motion,
And, I get the strong feeling,
A mind
That simply enjoys
The passing of life.
What time is it?
There's no time there.

I forget nothing
Except what I've forgotten,
And I have to smile
At the irony.

The rabbit is choked
And the atmosphere is sluggish,
But what a perfect time
To sit and remember
A face that expresses so little
But makes one feel so much.
A tiny white life,
30 cents at the most,
And sustained all by you
And by you alone.

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