Posted by: okathleen | January 15, 2009

101

Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick

SHOCK

Time is running out. Running away, disappearing over the hill. I’d like it to stop. Stop running, and start walking, slowly. Quietly.

Turn off the tick tock.

I’d like to be a Quietist.

Ataraxia is where it’s at. Mind numb. Body still. Serenity sits across the table and smiles softly. All the noise has gone away, disappeared over the hill with time.

Noise and time will be banned when I rule the world. Stillness will be issued free at the Post Office. Angst and dread will be locked in the tower and the key dropped into the deepest lake on the highest mountain.

The marble game will be banned. You know the one. Two big jars on the desk in front.

One full of marbles, three score and ten should do it.

One empty.

Now, how old are you?

Really?

Ok, put that number of marbles in the empty jar. Then, each birthday or summer, or whatever anniversary you prefer, drop another marble in. What a wheeze.

What larks. Your life in shiny hard mottly marbles. A marble clock in your face right there just to grind it in.

Step back. Turn round. Where is time?

It’s gone. Laughing all the way.

Oh God, what is that noise? It’s next door, sounds like hoovering, only that would be impossible as the lady next door, Olga, is 101. She’s got legs like a robin hopping through the leaves. Only I don’t think Olga hops anymore. She certainly couldn’t hoover. She’d be sucked up the tube like Mrs Pepperpot.
Frail, fabulous Olga. She used to ski Olympically.
Can you get your breath?
She can, just, just enough breath to tell you about her fabulous life. Long Luxury Life, as a Lady. A real Lady, one who wears gloves, and a hat to lunch. And owned a trug and sugar nips.
I wonder what her marble jar looks like.
101. Turn around. All that time. Behind you. Look behind you.
Where did it go?

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Responses

  1. love your quirky take on things. Brings a smile to my face 🙂

    I hear the clock counting down ALL the time.


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