Your clock turns my times into believable spells of intuition. The way your time collapses onto my shoulder every few months doesn’t confuse me anymore. Your hands are moved by love, your seconds spew bullets of man made hope and the days you long for are the ones that would tick to the beat of my belly. But oh great one; the forever of your time can’t be connected with mine because your fear of our past is the Wall of Prevention.
We catch colds and planes and ways to blame, we catch glances and our breath, we catch wind of what comes next. We catch ourselves being much too invasive, we catch ourselves between rocks and hard places. We catch waves and rays of sun, we catch snowflakes on our tongues. We catch each other in lies,we catch each others eyes, we catch each others drift and we catch each other lifts. We get caught off guard, get caught on camera and caught up with the motion of the earth, we catch ourselves belittling our own sense of worth. We catch up on our paperwork, we catch up with our friends, we catch the last 12 minutes of a game that’s going to end. Our world catches fire, our hearts do too, after all we’re all quite the catch, and that’s the damn truth.