A KIND OF TIME
My price is priceless and my time is
aimless - it's become like that. The
heaving boats on this brackish water
have no longer any connection to the
turpitude of their situation. I can wear
any different hat I choose, overcoats at
will, and flack jackets when I please. No
one will notice. I hide well behind a juniper
tree, and peer out as people pass. To record
limericks I'd have a harder time - hiding
is so much easier. My fashion is the fashion
of an ironmonger well out of form : iron and
steel, both, too hard to handle. I live in a
kind of time where meanings are too
specific and I can restate myself
whenever I select - where
Tuesday is tomorrow
forever.
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