Emergent

Her ring is hanging from a chain
around her neck while she is sitting
outside wondering when it will start to rain.
It never does it just gets darker,
and the pond frogs look for insects
in the light where they all daze around
the same old empty coffee cans
and pocket change that blends
with all the concrete.
Her favorite time of day
was in the evening when the world
would get excited it was over.
When the only thing left to do
was unpack the things that happened
in the morning and the afternoon collectively.
Everyone tells her she walks too slow,
and that might be true, but she sees
so much the others leave behind.
If I could rewind any day
and store the future far away
then I’d have to pick the time
we went to the movies,
and the winter cold was nothing
to us after all the lights were down,
and the curtains opened up
to just a screen that wasn’t really
just a screen.

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