Tasting Time

Tasting Time

I sit in a room
 and play

Billie Holiday,


Dean Martin,
 and

Connect Four

—
all alone.

In my room,

on the couch,

in my house,

with the sounds

of Ken and Ryu

brawling in the corner.

Occasionally

I look up

from my board,

the board in my lap,

as I outsmart

me, myself, and I—

beating us.

With the sounds of the

Sehnend channel’s

ominous voice

dripping knowledge,

or the white noise

and heat

of the blow dryer

keeping me warm,

breaking up

the quiet monotony—

but peace (of mine)

of living alone.

Thinking about

Outliers.

Gladwell.

Thinking about

gladness

and gladiators

and my next move.

Moves not just

yellow and red checkers,

but life

and the flavor of

what’s next.

Hoping it’s lasting,

—not like

Fruit Stripe gum—

that came in

hard and strong,

synesthesia,

a fruity pop,

but it neither stays

nor lasts long.

It comes in strong

but quickly fades,

like new love-

or like flowers on a grave.

I sit in my room

and play Rustic

Operation

with no cards,

just concentration

& a steady hand

-or Connect Four,

and Tetris too,

just thinking

And dreaming

& wondering

because it reminds me

of youth,

of yesterdays,

and time,

and you.

-CMN