By coujeaux
Date: 2003 Dec 16
Comment on this Work
[[2003.12.16.18.10.22196]]

Minute Hand Armageddeon

Answers refuse to come to her beck and call; unfair, crackface timepiece on the wall, standing a watch,
Wearing such a sadistic, satisfied grin; hour hand on a one, minute on the ten, won't budge one notch.
Reverberations of never in her mind, echoing the fears he left behind when he said he'd be back soon,
And she's been sitting in this station wringing both hands in nervous anticipation most of the afternoon.
Tried tapping feet to hurry things along, but she knew her timing was all wrong; impatient, looks again,
If only she could withstand the aggravations of sixty second circumnavigations for the ninearound spin.

Want it all and want it now, gonna get it and don't care how, a salvation for everything yesterday heart,
Bottle it up, the message is clear; rather have what's right here than wait on something special to start.
Temporary quench, appetite whet, who knows what the best is yet; believe you suffered enough fasting,
Or have you been so long deprived that the only way you survived was disbelief in anything everlasting?
Chew up chances, spit the doubt, rather have it bad than do without, see no consequence past the cause,
Yet you know the dangers of such haste in lives lived with not a moment to waste; it gives you no pause.

Triumph comes so lightning quick and she knows what makes it tick; she paces around and strains to see,
Serving as proof this vigil was worthwhile she rejected thoughts of his denial; convincing herself it's not me.
Off in the distance she heard sound that signals the passengers coming around; on that she turned to wait,
As her eyes dissected each anonymous face she prepared a loving embrace; he seemed to be running late.
At last, he appeared; she cried "Faster!" right as he happened to move past her into arms of someone new,
Reunited, they left in such a rush neither one noticed the hush that overcame her; and the clock struck two.