When you drive to pick her up
And leave at 4:15
She says she’ll be ready in 10 minutes
But we the wise have seen
That when a woman tells you
When she’ll be ready is the same
As the way the measure how long’s left
At the end of a football game.
Tonight I watched a movie
That made me cry
About an awkward redhead
Who can travel through time.
He learned that living every day
As if it is your last
Is the key to perfect happiness,
Not reliving the past.
Unlike awkward redhead dude
I can’t control the ages,
Can’t redo my past mistakes
Or rewrite history’s pages.
What I can do that others can’t
Is make the time you spend
Be used to wish my poetry
Would finally freakin’ end.
There once was a clock on a wrist
That one day became rather pissed.
It said “Time isn’t real,
“So how does that feel?”
Now it is for sale on Craigslist.
She was a girl too much alive for breathing,
Not more than an imaginary friend.
She met a man resentful of existence
For not obeying his command to bend.
She traded skins one hour in an evening
To walk among the mortals so beneath her
While the uncreative man whose shell she conquered
Took a stroll among the heavens, robed in ether.
The woman learned the pain of being solid
And how the road at night can smell of pine.
The man learned how to be imaginary
And why a drop of sunlight chose to shine.
And when the 60 minutes finished ticking
On a clock men made to solve the question, “when?”
The woman disappeared again forever
And the man awoke to be himself again.
‘Twas the night after Christmas
And the night before too…
Santa worked with the time machine
‘Til he turned blue,
For he needed to ship out
A few billion presents
To all of the children
Of all of the peasants.
The flux gear grew wonky
(Which you’ll see is not great)
And entangled poor Santa
Into some quantum state.
For Santa existed
And yet he did not,
As is demonstrable by
Some guy “Schroedinger’s” thought.
And so if you ask
“Mama, is Santa flying?”
She should say “yes AND no,”
Or else mama is lying.
I was a teenager after a year,
Middle aged by the time I was two.
I’d spend months in a minute chasing a ball
And spent weekends taking a poo.
A scratch on my ears was an hour in heaven
Though it seemed but a second to man.
I wonder if master can feel my time
And pray one of his seconds he can.
It’s nice to know
In this day and age
Time Magazine will
Give you the front page
And give you the title
“Person of the year”
For being perturbed
Where rich people can hear.
Please keep the word mum
‘Cause I did something dumb:
I ordered a clock.
Now at my door, a knock!
I fear my time has come…
Some people with a time machine
Would cure diseases in the past,
Kill Hitler as a baby
To stop the Jews from being gassed,
See what dinosaurs were like
Or build the pyramids.
Some would travel back in time
To relive being kids.
If I had a time machine
I’d go to a monastery
Where people sang Gregorian chant
With ye olde Tomme, Dicke, and Harrye
And play the drum and violin parts
To the Halo menu song.
Some people would go to the future
To cure cancer, but they’re wrong.