Jerrybaldy
03-04-2012, 08:06 PM
To brush my teeth,
1 minute thirty seconds,
half way through at the 45 second mark
I remember todays meeting
and the quilt is calling me,
singing ‘Jerry, Jerry’.
A singing quilt is no place to rest
so I go to the garden
where the sun with its tail
races through the sky.
I lay my cheek on the dew soaked grass.
Last Wednesday I did this for 2 minutes 27.
Today an ant crawls on my chin,
I estimate his walking speed
at 0.3 miles per hour.
I return to the house for toast
it pops out of the toaster
before I have placed it in.
The sun races ever faster
streaking through the sky,
a day becomes 11.5 seconds,
day, night, day, night.
Birds no longer fly,
the sun is an orange streak in the sky.
A month has passed since the butter melted on my toast.
I walk out to the car,
past birds with useless wings,
flapping as they walk in circles.
I turn the key four times,
the average is 3.16.
Two days pass in four turns of the key
earth revolves madly
the blue, black skies are smeared with lights
the seas are on fast spin
and heading this way.
My dog is smoking a pipe
four legs tiptoeing through breakdancing birds.
He jumps in the car beside me,
sets the satnav for the moon.
My pocketwatch says some time soon.
1 minute thirty seconds,
half way through at the 45 second mark
I remember todays meeting
and the quilt is calling me,
singing ‘Jerry, Jerry’.
A singing quilt is no place to rest
so I go to the garden
where the sun with its tail
races through the sky.
I lay my cheek on the dew soaked grass.
Last Wednesday I did this for 2 minutes 27.
Today an ant crawls on my chin,
I estimate his walking speed
at 0.3 miles per hour.
I return to the house for toast
it pops out of the toaster
before I have placed it in.
The sun races ever faster
streaking through the sky,
a day becomes 11.5 seconds,
day, night, day, night.
Birds no longer fly,
the sun is an orange streak in the sky.
A month has passed since the butter melted on my toast.
I walk out to the car,
past birds with useless wings,
flapping as they walk in circles.
I turn the key four times,
the average is 3.16.
Two days pass in four turns of the key
earth revolves madly
the blue, black skies are smeared with lights
the seas are on fast spin
and heading this way.
My dog is smoking a pipe
four legs tiptoeing through breakdancing birds.
He jumps in the car beside me,
sets the satnav for the moon.
My pocketwatch says some time soon.