John Whitney Steele: Time And I

It’s not like I have thrown away the clock
or torn my calendar right off the wall.
It’s just that Time and I forget to talk.

Don’t think I’m some rickety old crock
whose brain is going Swiss-cheesed, aneurysmal,
and may soon be unfit to read a clock.

I do still find my way around the block,
can bag a mountain, make it home by nightfall,
but sometimes Time and I forget to talk.

Once in a while I do forget to lock
the door and fear I’m losing wherewithal.
But it’s not time to throw away the clock,

live in a memory ward, with doors they lock..
It’s not like I am never on the ball.
It’s just that Time and I forget to talk.

Don’t put me in some hall where neighbors squawk,
and staff stick to some brain-dead protocol.
Don’t tell me I’m too dumb to read a clock.
It’s just that Time and I no longer talk.