Poem #2,730 | Clocks do not click on-line
This counting down thing
of poems-until is my sand
timer [ten thousand’ll fall
at least] – Finitude’ll come
close to being so – a 3rd of
a way through too soon &
numbered hunches’ll kick
in their curious way – will I
die alone? I’ll avoid taunts
& poke [about my demise]
for one month [then two’ll
come ‘long at once] – Read
these lines with me [after I
have let them loose in this
public park] – Screen-time
will roll us slowly from our
life we scroll away – Clocks
do not tick on-line – Let me
out of y’ nebby mind – I am
fine – I will still count down
to 10-thou’ poems for now