For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.
— Leonardo da Vinci
An hourglass constricted, the whore inside of me who is watching the clock, monitoring the time, this wasted time to get off, get going, lunar cycle gauge of tide and meridian. How I can hear the sand slip downward in my body clock? I need to be here, could be there, and not long ago the only place you wanted me to be was by your side … maybe?
I am a pencil that cannot sharpen,
ink that slides off paper,
outside of our time, I am lost,
a one ended boomerang.
© Samuel Wagan Watson