I am thinking of time-blindness today:
it’s a talent I use at work to while away
hours as my hands do what it is we
trained them: plugging this and that connector
one car per minute or thereabouts – me,
I’m a million miles distant as my hands
dance their intricate dances, conjecture
and narrative and hasty judgement lands
my mind here there then and now somewhat lost
to the present – yet the mind seems to itself
ubiquitous, eternal, and beyond
distinctions of self . . . until time returns
to mind, and the hands, observed by my self,
falter in their dance, fail, their rhythm lost.

dmpitchford 12/5/23