there is the clock set to strike one and does it no

there is the clock set to strike one and does it no
the numbers flipping through the radium dial
made electric now made eccentric and erratic now
the concentric lines seeping through
and this and this and this and this
but the voice can go no further because lacking integrity
something made too hot by it or too cold
the importance of exactness and precision in all things
and yet sadly lacking in saying as in doing
something for other people now
and is it the risk not taken becoming exaggerated
or perhaps always accurately seen
god or the devil or luck not walking with one anymore
one has entered middle age
the time where things happen to one
keys left down hallways wallets left in doorways
the screen one projects onto becoming thinner and thinner
a transparency against the stars
and the half vacant staring moon at the drive in
until left open to sky a permanence there
lucid not sane therefore the same reason