Excerpt From My October Mind

a symphonic slur #1

Sitting on a black bench so cold it feels like a puddle. Sitting in black pants in purple grey shade, smoking my time under a clock that reads 1:27. It's October, 11:17 AM. and I am debating walking across the street to CVS; I need to use the bathroom. My mind strolls through thoughts of writing a poem about the clock that reads the wrong time dominating above me, about what is wrong and what is time, and why these two abstracts run our existence. I muse on what I don't know, on what I will never know. Today is sunny and I wish it wasn't, "If it were raining" I think, "I would feel better."