The clock strikes its mother as it lunges for the last grocery bag at the end of the checkout counter. No clock can afford to keep its dignity with plastic as expensive as it’s become. Please be aware that clocks are rarely such instigating ne’er-do-wells, but time[r]s are always subject to change.
Author: Aidan Badinger
I am a poet.
I write poems.
Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.
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