Counterclockwise

 

I'm aware of the motion of time. 

The clock goes round and round and round and I can hear it ticking and I feel as though I'm sitting on the hand of the hour letting it move me in the only direction it knows how.

Mostly, I'm okay to sit. But there are moments when the air is crisp and the sky is navy blue and sidewalks are for dancing and laughter takes the place of breath and I know it's impossible, but I wish I could stay just a little bit longer under the freckled dark. 

I'm aware of the motion of time.

The clock goes round and round and round and I want to stand up and push back -- fight the hour and the minute with both of my hands and send the seconds in reverse. 

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