untitled homage to Sunday matinées

i watched clocks

unwind

on a Sunday afternoon

- three o'clock -

years

running in circles
and connecting dots
that were never

there, even then, there

are

only so many -

things words can say.

there are

only so many

days we name:

how many sevens does it take?
how many sevens does it take?

innumerable.

choking.

punchlines.