Dimensions, Slightly Daunting


They’re never like Day Two, never like Day Four,

don’t behave like the start

and know no end either, do they, Third Days.

Perpetually stuck

in the middle between the ends,

they seem torn and tear little bits

into a stagnating past and a future in motion

and do so in a rush and a twist, always, Third Days.

And so today,

on one of those days,

during the Season of Waiting, (naturally,)

I stand by the elevator and

press, PRESS

the button TWICE again, even though

it’s already been pressed and

probably long ago, because

I am the last to join the herd (, naturally)…


I see the light. I know the lift is coming. I am not the only one waiting.

And yet

I hurry and worry and

gosh, here I catch a

glimpse of my frazzled self

in the chromium, so shiny and clean, and cannot help but ask what’s happened

since that day when I was birthed into this earth,

was made in One Image,

what happened to the ability to

reflect my own, project my own,

and give a face to the detection of

…well, certainly more than a pair of frantic eyes being stuck in the mirror?