Time became an invariably dense object that I could not manipulate. I walked backwards. I thought Time would follow. I forged ahead. Time marched in place and then laughed at my attempt.
Time says, “Buy a canvas. Cover it with everything you think I am.”
I reply, “Haven’t I already?”
Time answers, “no.”
I do not understand.
Time unveils me, “I think you love me too much.”
I assure him, “I love all your minutes…and everyone else’s.”
Time frowns and asks, “…and yours?”