Minutes until too late and then what, clock-watcher?
I'm three pages into a folder called "emotional reading" I'm
A motion detector flips on and after it's off I remember I didn't bother to look.
I was standing under an overpass again feeling my own motion unprivileged.
I actively waste every day.
An old woman with long white braids was waiting for the bus and then on it
when I got on later after giving up, getting nowhere faster than she was.
This is just about motion and stillness
and age, and justice. It's about planning.
It's not about justice. It's about inertia.