zones

he lived
in time zones

thousands
of time zones

every thought he thought
(like this one)
a time zone

not the same
as the time zone he utilized
for this thought

or
for that one

he wondered
in another

how loud must it be

if each
made its own sound
zip-ping its way
to oblivion

he wondered
if ever there could be
collision
at a crossroads
a roundabout

dead end

a convergence

he wondered
whatever happens to them
all the individual
time zones

and he wonders too
whatever happens
to yours

will they meet his
one day

oh
happy day

oh

happy day


© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #04: my place magpie

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