one last one

one minute the places one minute the faces one minute the spaces
one minute sunday’s sunrise after blurred kaleidoscope night atop city sky of fog and illuminated light
one minute sitting across a subway aisle purse in hand she’s gone
one ride one journey one life one shot one trip one last one
one minute living room and midnight tube staring into walls of
teenage lips legs high school jocks drank into the morning one minute gone
one minute a long island home
a minute to think a minute to wake a minute to realize
a minute in another’s minutes of anxiety
instances of interstates connecting to minutes in
the driver seat, subway seat, movie seat, park bench, couch
one minute look at smooth shoes and music
minutes of brush strokes and simple sweeps like the bus boy’s broom in a 24 hour diner
one minute seeing the sitting blacknesses of being with a zen priest sculpture sitting behind a museum glass window
one minute the pacific one minute the atlantic
tick tock it never stop and minutes are there
flashed and frozen
trapped in the brain

now