Time, measured
On a pocket watch,
Affixed to my side
By a fake-gold chain,
Opened by spring
-loaded button,
Ticks gently by.

I could be waiting
For a train
I could be waiting for my love,
But I am not.

I am not waiting.

Time, confirmed
By the phone
In my pocket, 
Connected to everyone
By the faux-magic
Of technology, 
brushes by,
Like a man late for work, 
Navigating a crowded subway platform

I could be 
On my way to work,
I could be 
Hurrying along,
But I am not

I am not moving

Time, announced
By the first rays of dawn,
Washes over me, 
Its true-golden light
Wrapping me,
And the world
In the new day.

I am
Still.