Time, Inc.

This nothing that comes from nowhere
is splendid–for a while. Even if
it doesn’t have much time, it has duration,
which is better. Pleasure is duration.
But so is pain. Agonizing duration. Time,
truth be told, is nothing without us.
We get this uncanny sense it has been
seeking us out. For aeons. Sometimes,
it even feels like somebody is lurking us there.
It’s like that mysterious agency that opened up
down the street.  The one that’s always closed.
What is its business? What does it really want
from us? Why be there but never open?
Why this ridiculous sense of suspense?
We pass the dark facade and try to look in,
but can only ever see our own dark reflections.

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