time is an abstract

where does time
collect? in pools
of porcelain? or
streams of silver.
the rapids of
age and tradition
slowly chip at
the banks, glittering
with memory and
shaded by doubts.
songs we heard
so long ago
are like friends
we used to
know. like worms
doing their job.
consuming and refining.
squirming and embalming.
reorganize i say...
let out the
bitter air, stale
and reactive... less
each year, true,
but what of
last year, don't
you remember what
you did? what
pacts you may
have made, betrayed?
hmmmmmmmm... frowns are
as equally inexpensive
as smiles. so,
take that, punk.

grimm