Along the lines of time
we skip rope with the minutes;
no one watches.

A silence. Agony!
There is too much to be said
before the lights are gone
and the clocks deceive us.
From now on we sleep on rocks
and bathe in the suns.

Still the clocks are ticking.
Into lizard states of mind
we can hope to arrive,
as we rearrange these numbers
that lie motionless on the wall.

What a strange fascination