About Time
By Amie Hollmann
We walk in rooms of broken clocks
and have forgotten the reflex to check their faces
for the status of our situation
But have grown accustomed to marking time in other ways
how many cars are parked on which side of the street
how wet are the hand towels
how ripe are the avocados
what color is the bruise
Downstairs our neighbor keeps time by
yelling at her cat on the hour
half hour
Our clocks lie broken
a bit unbecoming
inefficient O’s
like the empty mouth of
the mounted moose head
at our favorite Greek restaurant
peering down at plates of oblivious souvlaki
perpetually hungry in a land of salted plenty
You catch me
starring at my bare wrist again
a hair past a freckle
and remind me to replace my broken band
At the watch shop I eye
the dusty Rolexes under glass
and remark about how foolish
someone could be to pay so much
to capture something everyone already owns
Amie Hollmann writes and creates in New York City. Her urban explorations have yielded some delicious design and food finds and the occasional poem. She blogs about creativity at http://amiehollmann.com
By Amie Hollmann
We walk in rooms of broken clocks
and have forgotten the reflex to check their faces
for the status of our situation
But have grown accustomed to marking time in other ways
how many cars are parked on which side of the street
how wet are the hand towels
how ripe are the avocados
what color is the bruise
Downstairs our neighbor keeps time by
yelling at her cat on the hour
half hour
Our clocks lie broken
a bit unbecoming
inefficient O’s
like the empty mouth of
the mounted moose head
at our favorite Greek restaurant
peering down at plates of oblivious souvlaki
perpetually hungry in a land of salted plenty
You catch me
starring at my bare wrist again
a hair past a freckle
and remind me to replace my broken band
At the watch shop I eye
the dusty Rolexes under glass
and remark about how foolish
someone could be to pay so much
to capture something everyone already owns
Comments