His imagination was not strongly enough attached to power to be able to span the years: it turned toward a cup of tea. To compensate is to obey a clock. “I clock myself in” is not to say I'm clocked. It sounds like a stapler, but what it attaches is me to my office; underneath, jack hammers stitch rhythm into chaos. Somewhere in the corner, where the signatures are, I hoard my time; it grows in that right angle like a dust bunny. One with ears to hear voices through construction. We're due a new elevator, but the car shall remain the same. Assign it to god or mammon, this servant of the up and down. The elevators at Reina Sophia looked out on a square; those at Windward Mall on a plastic playground. We could walk, but we know the view's better inside the shaft.
4 weeks ago