Circle

A poem inspired by my college town

The corner’s heartbeat

wanes with the moon,

as people become words 

written in the sand,

erased with the tide 

of closing times.

Taken away by conditions

of the weather,

or the conditions 

of three Godheads.

Some people hover

long enough to see

insomnia turn off its lights.

Long enough to wonder 

what happens near black holes,

the hole in the wall,

or fifteen parts of a whole.

Time slows down

things can’t escape

in a second of distraction,

or escape the rapture

of a week’s end,

or a cycle’s succession.

Earth to an up and downbeat street.

Cabs and vans come,

fill with familiars and strangers,

last words up and leave

as the first beat of a measure.

If time is like this corner,

then time is a flat circle.