The best is when the air is tremulous
with the humidity of bubbling broth
while exotic vocals gurgle and froth
over the beat making time emulous

of space, which can saturate our senses
and make time appear redoubled, sacred
and life is lived as if off the fake grid
that is shaped by time and all its tenses

But time always wins – tomorrow’s Monday
I die inside of pure acknowledgement
of the freedoms yielded while on the clock

I must relive the trauma of Sunday
and write these words as self-admonishment:
time’s the threshold to your self-auction block.

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