The doctors have conducted tests, and, apparently,
What we call the present, the little interstice
Between what was and will be, measures six seconds. But not here.
Camels and dromedaries would sooner pass through the eye of a needle
Than someone look back with sorrow upon his yesterday.
"Chronos?" they mutter. "What's that? A hormone supplement?"
"One of those pills? A banned snuff movie? A cocktail?"
There's nothing about once and future in Arcadia.
And it seems like some peculiar perversion if someone recollects
A first kiss, innocence, the night, and then...
It's always in the present that the finders of happiness blink,
Comprehensively insured, because nothing can end that never began.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
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