by Tomorrow's Man
April 23, 2003
I press time. Right up against my scruffy chin. My bald spot. My crooked toe. My left buttock, then my right. I press time against my teeth. Then against the tip of my tongue, teasing. I press time to my belly. I press it to my neck, so time can feel my gentle pulse moving like a raga. Then I press it to my forehead, and stare it in the eye. With a wink, I send time running along, now. There must be someone out there pressed for time.