NEPHART.COM

What in the world

is this life rehearsing me for

again

and again

and again

one moment stacked

on the back of another

rush

rush

rush

rush to work

rush through streets that don’t remember my name

rush for a bus that never waits

rush inside traffic

where time melts into horns

rush hour

but I have no hour left

I am tired

not the sleep kind

the soul-after-shift kind

losing strength

like loose change

losing power

like a phone at one percent

people running with briefcases

running with bags

running like the day is short

like evening is a mouth

and something sharp is hiding inside it

I rush on the phone

rush rush rush

half the words don’t arrive

half the meanings are lost in space

someone speaking

from another planet

and calling it normal

rushing for this

rushing for that

carrying a rabbit in my hat

trying to keep it alive

while performing miracles

with shaking hands

everybody wants magic

but nobody wants time

so tell me

what kind of spell survives

when the air itself

is late