 |
All I want is time, or better yet, no time,
to get away from clocks and calendars
is a new name for my old obsession.
Somewhere along the line I got confused
about art as a means to money as a means
to buying more time.
Time is free
but
they charge you to get to it.
Today the hands fell
from the clocks and the numbers turned
to smiles.
No,
there were no numbers.
There was sun and chance encounters,
some of them more planned than others.
There was champagne, tequila, and beer
at the beach. Smoke on the water, if you
know what I mean.
There was the ringing
of technology, friends on a walk wanting to
meet.
And we managed it after a sunlit
base-
ment rockout, bicycles bombing down 32nd
to Sloop's 34-oz draft beers.
Fried food then the Hazelwood.
Genevieve, John,
Jed, Adria, Craig....
And me me me me me me me me me me meee
|
|
