By the actuarial tables I have another five years.
The next new moon is three weeks away.
My son is almost 31.
I can’t recall what model year my Toyota is.
A peregrine falcon can dive at 240 mph
which annihilates time. It’s almost dusk.
Are days just parallel scratches on a jail-cell wall?
How many moons to a century?
There must be a language with no word for time
just for the steps of its passing.
The future has no memories
which is why we want to go there.