Monday, March 18, 2013

How Come Chicago

In the 
inexhaustible space 
between a tick and its tock,
rude monday asserts itself.

An instant 
made various,
quickly turns monotonous:

Clocks clang.
Watchers err.
Cars whir.
Radios blare.

How come, 
bleary commuters wonder,
Chicago never bothered 
to ask the real question:

Does anybody 
really not know 
what time it is?