this right hand is clutching
a fork and a pencil
at the same time
fingers and fist
full of energy
accumulating through
 countless thoughts
 needs
 physical necessities
yet
there is no resentment
over time, over the
lack of time

with an economy of
transitional periods
we may call them days
I call them
nothing in this case

I have no need to think
or reason to reconsider
reckon or reason to know

just to make it
from work
to friends
to work
crossing home
while air filled balloons
are floating
often above my head,
also sentimental and degrading

I read on the subway
for several reasons
you could read from palms
flat, with a small line for life
nothing much inscribed
for the short transitions we take

there is a clock at hand
it has been going on like this
for my 23 years forever
and I keep pace to defend,
claim there should be no
end to an end.