BLACKBIRDS

Time is blue like yogurt.  It doesn’t fall.  I saw it yesterday, hiking the adirondacks, slightly hungry.

Time, i thought, Not one for talking.  Yet i thought i heard it mumble as it almost fell (it almost falls but doesn’t) something about something left at the cleaners.  Must have been me, though, hearing time.

Time is blue like yogurt.  Like a sari wanting to be undone.  Really!  One would think its tastes would have evolved somewhat!  But that’s it, i guess.

I’ve always pictured it sort of like a foot-shaped solar-powered rubber calculator, with big keys, very pink, fun to press, always counting.  Time, unfortunately, has never quite returned the favor.

Time likes, i think, routinely to be stroked, like a cat quite acquainted with itself and having had a tabby as an uncle.

It likes to change in a closet, like a superhero.  It likes to brush with pepsodent.  Smokes like a chimney.  Doesn’t think twice, or even once.  Might make a good ceo if it weren’t for that annoying tic.

Whenever i’m in paris, which isn’t often these days, due to something some say is the same as time but really isn’t, never could be, but sort of is, i often see it sitting on one of those benches by the river, looking in (as in a mirror?), at the bodies that have been there.

Time, like the finest waterproof treatment (^hydrobloc) for the finest leather boots (zamberlans), isn’t cheap.  But, like lots of things, it is.

I fondled my yellow banana phone the other day, reminding me of time.  If it were green, i asked myself, Would it have done so?

Some say (some would say something else) time’s better in some things than its competitors.  But i don’t know.

You know what’s been said about time and blood and fear and more by that frenchman on a throne.  I’m inclined to believe in it with certain stools.

Time.  Bit of a pisser.  Like granny’s dingleberries when she’s dying.

A bit like yogurt?  Sure.  Green yogurt on the big keys in leather boots