We step once more into the vacuum of time
And trace the cunning noise.
A witness,
To our footsteps…
Companion…clock…critic…
Tap, tap, tap….mine and yours.
Towards infinity,
Hand in hand…
A word or two.
Perfunctory, empty, bare…
Floating in the air,
Catch and fold them…hide them in your pockets…
Wide-open eyes…drinking the white…
The white of the vacuum…
Sip, sip, sip…
And then rest on the shoulders of time,
A minute or two…at the station,
To catch the four o’ clock train,
The left-hand pocket of your overcoat
Carrying in it
Our tickets to eternity…
My creaky gray umbrella and yours…?
Here we go…
The whistling engine
Staring breathless and blank’
In the cold, white rain…
Tap, tap, tap…