In All the Time

(No, the other one.)

Yesterday, there was all the time in the world. It was just puddling up in the backyard, on the front porch, in the rain gutter. Some people left it out by the curb in the hope that the garbagemen would come by and scoop it up with that week’s trash. Others just walked stiffly by, as though by not acknowledging it, somehow that extra time would just vanish away. One man slipped in some time and found himself, for what seemed to stretch out into a pinpoint of eternity, flying backward through the air. Although to call it flying is somewhat generous. He did hit the ground eventually and all his dozen eggs (after another seeming eternal moment) crunched all around. One girl and another girl and a boy (children like all the others) snuck out when their parents weren’t looking and had a timeball fight. The boy had a quite attractive mustache by the time the parents finally dragged them inside, for showers or baths most likely. Time doesn’t wash out very well from clothing, unfortunately. One block had an opportunist who tried to pack the time away in several of those cheap, white, styrofoam coolers. Many years later, long forgotten, he opened them up to find all that time had just seeped away. “Where has it all gone,” he cried.

Today, there doesn’t seem to be any time at all.

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