Wednesday Poem

Once your excuses are gone
you have to settle for being awkward.
The stillness of the buildings
serve as an ideal backdrop
for the humans scurrying around
Manhattan with bags and carts.
Blooming in oblivion, charging
into the milk white daylight.
Let me be perfectly clear here:
Things are starting to look
like time is passing, that the
momentum of the earth is tugging
us into the faint decay of now.
And now, and then.