[Time]

By Abigail Munson

Time got on the bus
Wearing brown snow pants
He stretched his arms out
Wide, fingers pointing and
Reaching and collecting the
Flowing end of his explanation
The bus driver–
A known time waster,
A money collecting
Paid by the hour
Time-keeping time-waster
Smacked on graying gum
With jagged canyon teeth
While bubbly spit
Situated itself on his chin
“You gotta pay”
He crowed
Squeaky and rhythmic

“You gotta pay”

Time curled his arms
In like two C’s and
Pointed to the chain
Around his neck
It was heavy and industrial
Even heavier holding
A Gold padlock
It seemed an anchor
Keeping his nikes on
The crumby ground
He licked his lips
And sing-songed
Shakespearean reason:

“The raging rocks
And shivering shocks
Shall break the locks
Of prison gates.”

The bus driver unperturbed
With midsummer sweat stains
And a fairy circle of white hair
Like a laurel wreath decorating
An angry pimply dome
Regurgitated his predestined line:

“You gotta pay”

Time laughed, big and sweet
“Oh we all gotta pay man, but time passes for free, no amount of coin will change that”

 

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