clocks.

i think we have rhythms just like nature & just like most things. & a lot of times those rhythms run on timers & when they go off they shout.

like with my clock that struck go & sent me to my new world full of red earth & front porch bears. i didn't know i was meant to go til i heard "get the hell out," & a final stroke that pointed southwest.

or with the one that reminded me & my purpose are decided & that the tongues that fall silent are my greatest grief; this one didn't need to roar quite the same, as it only needed to speak over the mind-lulling open/close of a cash drawer. this clock is ticking for books & lessons & languages that will be stuffed into brain so some beauty can be saved that the world has yet lost.

or with the one that ticked off the love & just ticked it back on when the time fit. moments apart can be just as blessed as those spent with, & now the second's nearing that our clocks will be met. then we can smash both their faces & linger in bed later than needed.

my clocks are calling, & they seem to be right. maybe time's made-up, but at least it keeps us from forgetting.