The Longing Now


Time passes, in achingly long moments,
slowed to a stand-still it pauses,
sighs, pinches off a fluff of lint,
waits to compute    out        e a c h                s  e  c  o  n  d  ,
triple-checking the moment for accuracy, in duplicate carbon copy,
then holds a meeting, a final tally, a nap
(dreaming on the prudent drying of brittle-brown porcelain saucers),
followed by a wake-up herbal tea, sweetened with slow honey, and,
Pardon me, might you have any Wite-Out I could borrow?,
and then—finally—finally—
Time painstakingly announces that single moment, on the clock:
The one hun-dred nine-ty sev-en mil-lion, four hun-dred sev-en-ty eight thou-sand, six hun-dred and nine-ty ninth sec-ond.
Only then does it proceed to repeat the entire cycle, for the next second in line,
only more careful this time.

(This long now not to be confused with The Long Now’s 10,000-year clock thingie-dingie.)

Comments

P.L. Frederick said…
This state of near-stasis is likely to be experienced whilst waiting for vacation, to grow up, or for something, anything, more interesting to happen. Ah, the amazing human brain: how strangely it interprets what's going on around it.
April 24, 2009
Pinhole said…
I'm in the midst of this condition, as I type. I guess Einstein was right about my relatives.
April 24, 2009
P.L. Frederick said…
Do not despair, dear Pinhole: this moment is not forever. Despite. What. It. Feels. Like. It just hasn't gotten to the tea stage yet. When time reaches the tea-with-slow-honey stage, that 1/60th of a minute is close to being up.
April 24, 2009
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