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.