Some Days Time Is Measured


What we can control is our wise effort to be present with what is.
— Narayan Liebenson Grady, “The Refuge of Sitting” (Tricycle, Winter 2003)

Some days time is measured
in kisses that were not kissed.

One long lonely kissless moment follows
another kissless split. It gets dark.

The lips wonder what became
of the hours. So many unspent

chances. So many kisses not kissed.
No kissing under the pergola. No

kissing beside the car door. No kissing
in the grocery store beside the overripe

avocados nor in the endless pasta aisle.
No kissing on the garage sale table. No

kissing in the grass. No kissing. No kissing
and no kissing. That is how some days

pass.

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