Tick Tock Don Carlson

you drop from the top of a rollercoaster, and the burning in your lungs and legs as you race down green grass hill tops. I am the pounding of your fists in the air, and your heart in your chest, to the rhythm of the music, as you dance alone in your room. I am the reason you struggle to fall asleep on the night before Christmas, and cry while watching the Notebook. The smile that brightens your face, as the first snowfall whispers the eve of February, is because of me. I am the reason you feel everything at once, and on other days, nothing at all — I keep you drowning beneath the waves or dying from the thirst of wanting to feel something, anything at all. I am the impatience stirring in your bones, and the frustration threatening to boil over, when someone pushes you too far. The reason you prefer tea over coffee, and can’t fall asleep with the lights on, is because of me. I am the soft smile on your lips, and the warmth in your belly, when someone gives you a gift, and a note, saying, “This made me think of you. ” The reason you can’t stand to wear mismatched socks, and prefer red lollipops over orange ones, is because of me. I am the only reason why you long to see the world — Greece, Italy, Bali, Spain, Korea — your muse from every angle, I am the very reasoning behind the way in which you perceive the world. Make no mistake, I am not time. I am how you know you’ll never have enough of it.

Tick Tock

Don Carlson, US Faculty

Clock, you’re crude and graceless, Tsk-tsk-tsking relentlessly With that blank look on your face. Didn’t anyone tell you it’s not polite to point?