Passing the Time
(from FRA, The Forked River Anthology)And so be it.
Time is a bit
of wire with spring.
Hear it ticking.
Time is not money in Bras, and M. J-C Amen, the watch-mender, spends most of his leaning against the railings outside his shop. He is cheerfully resigned to convening a symposium of old timers. It’s the most peaceable gathering in town. The men have time for one another. I only know one by name, M. Edmond, a dapper little man who always smiles on passing in the street. Sometimes we exchange a few words on the state of the heavens, lightly touching on Descartes’ ‘fire, water, air, stars, sky’. But above all the sun which accords with his disposition. I didn’t doubt that here was a man who savored ‘the fruits of the earth, and all its comforts’.
After the Natty and Stanis fracas, to recover my beautiful temperament I stop to congratulate M. Amen. Both dials of the two-faced clock tower are in agreement, a rare event. Noticing M. Edmond was not amongst men I hesitated to ask why. Last sighted, he was coming out of Dr J’Espoir’s office, carrying a large medical envelope. As it was drizzling our exchange was brief. ‘My heart’s a wonder’, he said. ‘It’s beating too fast like an ado in love’, and he sauntered off, impeccably dressed as ever in a light white summer suit with a cravat, his cane in the air.
I ask the men, and M. Amen shakes his head.
IM M. Edmond
Outside time, outside time
And the passing fair would stop
to hear the joke of the day.
They’d stand there laughing away.
You hadn’t a care in the world.
Outside time, outside time
Was the walking stick you twirled
a baguette or ficelle?
It spun too fast to tell.