I learned
to wrap myself in time.
To breathe in the pages of the book
I did not read
before it was due.
To let the juice of the melon
drip to the ground
as I meander in the market,
one large chunk
after another
in the shimmering summer heat.
To be satisfied with
dancing steps in the
bread aisle
to the beat of some absurd song
of my young years.
To let a smile that
begins in the eyes
fill my soul as the cardinal pair skims
the wire outside my window
while the light grey clouds bloom into day.
I understand now –
these hours are
born into the
illusion of possession.
My fisted grip
What before I dreamed
of dictating,
let the blessed moments