the clock for my pants 


my mother gave me
a timepiece for christmas.
it has a clip for your beltloop.
a short leather band
holds a compass.

the face of the watch
hangs upside down
to be read
from the hip.

an unfamiliar streetcorner
becomes suddenly found
between time and body
by the face of direction.

indoors,
the compass confuses,
tells how to get to
the largest nearby metal object
or strongest magnet,
influenced by the way
things are built.

knowing the time
is a new sensation.
i no longer look
at my bare wrist,
where i wouldn’t want to watch
when asked when.

i automatically reach
for my waist
and look down like
i’m trying to see 
if my shoes are tied.













why i am
a nomad: