Time comes in. Its head is full of funnels. I thought it was a tool shed. I shut it out.
One of the funnels fell on the floor. It was a hole in the floor. I had to step around it, like in a dream, by opening and closing my mouth. Big deliveries were on the way. Everybody wanted a product that was like an empty jar. Socially, it was really useful to have the emptiest jar.
Money filled in all the empty spaces. You had to reach down to the bottom and pull hard. When it gave way, you could fall backwards. It was best to want to fall hard.
Being political meant staring blankly at a camera. All of my political friends owned cameras. I got stuck between their lenses and had to shout for someone to get me out. That’s how I met time. Nobody could ever get it on camera. It was always getting out of the windows it made with its own arms, like a stooge. It was the last of the really good body humorists.
Berries pop out of it, and flowers. Birds fly around in it and drop dead out of it. A cat keeps cleaning itself of it. Molecules of water form a sprinkler of it, and kids are somehow detached from it, never wearing their shoes. The inner ear is its drum. It keeps you marching through. The future is a pressure in the inner ear that becomes an ache at night before a storm.
I’ll be back in two weeks. Have fun, summer.