Time Was. Time is.

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Sitting alone at 4 AM.
Some cigarettes. Coffee.
This cluttered table.

Night contracts time.

Fifty years ago.
A woman. Wine.
A whisper of waves.
An orchard of
pomegranates.

Sensuous promises
already evaporating,
made immediately
into memories
by greedy clocks.

A lifetime caught in
an amber instant.

A parade of days.
A movie of seconds.
Things pass quickly.
The credits come up.

Just time to blink.

Everything remains now.
To breathe is a thrill.

Only this life.

These cigarettes.
This coffee. This table.
Surrounding darkness.

Where it all happened.
Where it happens still.