http://cdn5.thr.com/sites/default/files/2014/11/flavor_flav_made_the_clock_his_signature_accessory.jpg

On the phrase ‘Serving Time’

Kareem Brown
Aug 25, 2017 · 2 min read

My grandparents were preachers of Time
so we prayed to Clocks.
I love a girl whose family worship Space
so they pray to clocks
The imagination is a spell we cast over the future
so imagination is a form of prayer.

I am like that cherry blossom tree outside my flat,
the one that’s always spitting game to the pavement
The petals that lay around the trunk
remind me of the writer at their desk
with balls of paper surrounding their feet
like worshippers.

I imagine Aunty Toks she was called to Heaven for the most noble of jobs:
managing and responding to God’s hate mail.
I imagine she laughed like I did
when the pastor pushed my head and I didn’t drop.

We were horny teenagers learning God like dogs learn to sit
Learning God like a script for a show whose end hasn’t been written yet
Uncle John doesn’t know that when Aunty Funke walked past
I saw his neck twist so hard I thought juice would leave his ears

Aunty Toks is explaining that it’s important we find our own proof that God is real.
She tells us, teenagers, one example for her is the orgasm
she takes pride in knowing the being that created that thing.
She is the christian I wanted to be:
outcast among the religious,
pillar among the Godly.
On a next Sunday
the guest pastor pushes my forehead
but I do not drop.
We are frozen,
neither wanting to be revealed as imposter.

We are mini-gods — What do birds
that live near airports think the planes are?

To what extent do I view like my stammer
as someone I am getting revenge on
For times I would practice conversation in my mirror
like a dance I would be scored on
I love the music of conversation but
can only dance around the subject

Plus my inside voice keeps sneaking out,
today it told the post-office man that he’s forgotten
to change the date on his calendar
He said “well, yeah, yesterday was a good day”

When somebody pays you a compliment
that you would love to one day believe
accept it as prophecy
and write it somewhere further in the calendar,

Today that care home next to the kids park shines like food in the microwave.
Shines like it’s powered by the kids park.
These giant windows are for showing off the elderly

The more you give of yourself now
the more there is going to be at the end
You are a cell and these are your Cell Juniors
Ojanika would plait my hair while watching Dragon Ball Z
so she notices my bald spot before me
around the time my grandfather was
dying and I started turning into him.

)

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade