Please enjoy my mp3 recording of Run Down, that I recite to the lovely music of PAIO, “ISTAR-3.”
Time cuts out the best parts, the ones we don’t find time for.
It speeds up when we grab some hours, and turns endless when the clock ticks alone, and we are under its sad spell, counting minutes.
The good times come too fast, they fly in on overnight tickets and fly out with the dawn.
Painted pit stops in our on-going race of romance,
and even though we are jet setters, time travelers,
we do know enough to copy chats and quotes and to take the oddest photos
“What a good time!” we say to ourselves, and try to hold its memory.
Desperate to recall a really nice time, we save prudently for when the empty ones roll in to fill the days.
Like rations, we nibble desiccated kisses, hours that were transformed into sweet plump minutes and then were gone.
We try to ingest it over again, for famine sweeps the land and makes our hearts get scratchy dry, and we hunger, for fulfillment and we search the face of Time and see a traitor holding out its hands saying,
“Here I saved an hour just for you.”
Time is running out.
I wound down a few times now, but I’m still around.
That’s the problems with those keys…they are made for someone else to turn.
No one wants to watch a doll slump over in her dance, in a crowd of wound-up dancers.
I try to squeeze something for me out of you..but when you don’t have anything to give,
I feel my years like empty grain sacks hopelessly pillaged.
April 16, 2012