by Anurima Sharma
I have never been the first one to a party.
Not because I take eons to choose an outfit,
or because my ride is never punctual.
Because my life does not depend on a clock.
Not because I take eons to choose an outfit,
or because my ride is never punctual.
Because my life does not depend on a clock.
I do not know what I am doing this weekend.
Maybe I will catch up on Gilmore Girls.
Or go to the Galleria.
Or finally try Seoul Taco.
I am supposed to do homework with my friend
Tonight.
Sometime tonight.
I do not know what time tonight.
In math, I refuse to use a formula,
Unless I understand its derivation.
In life, I abide by the concept of time,
But yet, its derivation is unknown.
“Time is an illusion,”
Time is a formal construct,
imposing formality onto
“Let’s catch a movie,”
“Let’s hang out”
“I’m tired. Should I take a nap?”
“The last showing is at 7, and I get off of work at 7:30.”
“Sure. When? Sunday? 3? Until 5?”
“Set an alarm so you do not oversleep.”
Time is a cue ball,
and we wait to get knocked around by it.
We let it knock us around.
When I was 6, I had a friend on my street.
Anytime he was on his way to the park at the end of the cul-de-sac,
He would knock on my door.
He would see if I wanted to come.
He understood.
He understood
not to call my house and see if I was home first,
not to make plans days in advance to go to the park,
Now, he does not knock on my door.
Now I do not know where he is,
or what he is up to.
He is most likely texting his friends,
checking if they are free this Friday.
People have retreated to their time tables.
The front porch is empty,
no impromptu get-togethers,
no sharing a cup of coffee,
no playing in the broken fire hydrant.
No people on the porch.
No eyes on the street.
“Porches are as synonymous with American culture
as apple pie.”
People sat on their porch to have fun.
Society sat on the porch to police.
Unattended children were always attended,
accidentally unlocked homes were guarded,
prime graffiti locations were monitored.
Society kept society in order.
People protected people.
And then we all got planners,
and calendars, and schedules.
And then relaxing meant sitting alone with a beer,
not spending time with whoever happened to walk by.
Security became ADT and double bolt locks.
Unattended children remained unattended.
We abandoned the informality of the front porch,
for the false security of time structured formality.
The unattended child remained unattended,
until the night.
When his chaperones became the wild dogs,
and his body, the dinner.
In 2010, a young boy was unfortunately eaten alive in Tower Grove Park by wild dogs while playing in the park unchaperoned.
Maybe I will catch up on Gilmore Girls.
Or go to the Galleria.
Or finally try Seoul Taco.
I am supposed to do homework with my friend
Tonight.
Sometime tonight.
I do not know what time tonight.
In math, I refuse to use a formula,
Unless I understand its derivation.
In life, I abide by the concept of time,
But yet, its derivation is unknown.
“Time is an illusion,”
Time is a formal construct,
imposing formality onto
“Let’s catch a movie,”
“Let’s hang out”
“I’m tired. Should I take a nap?”
“The last showing is at 7, and I get off of work at 7:30.”
“Sure. When? Sunday? 3? Until 5?”
“Set an alarm so you do not oversleep.”
Time is a cue ball,
and we wait to get knocked around by it.
We let it knock us around.
When I was 6, I had a friend on my street.
Anytime he was on his way to the park at the end of the cul-de-sac,
He would knock on my door.
He would see if I wanted to come.
He understood.
He understood
not to call my house and see if I was home first,
not to make plans days in advance to go to the park,
Now, he does not knock on my door.
Now I do not know where he is,
or what he is up to.
He is most likely texting his friends,
checking if they are free this Friday.
People have retreated to their time tables.
The front porch is empty,
no impromptu get-togethers,
no sharing a cup of coffee,
no playing in the broken fire hydrant.
No people on the porch.
No eyes on the street.
“Porches are as synonymous with American culture
as apple pie.”
People sat on their porch to have fun.
Society sat on the porch to police.
Unattended children were always attended,
accidentally unlocked homes were guarded,
prime graffiti locations were monitored.
Society kept society in order.
People protected people.
And then we all got planners,
and calendars, and schedules.
And then relaxing meant sitting alone with a beer,
not spending time with whoever happened to walk by.
Security became ADT and double bolt locks.
Unattended children remained unattended.
We abandoned the informality of the front porch,
for the false security of time structured formality.
The unattended child remained unattended,
until the night.
When his chaperones became the wild dogs,
and his body, the dinner.
In 2010, a young boy was unfortunately eaten alive in Tower Grove Park by wild dogs while playing in the park unchaperoned.