Time Is Only Just A Picnic Mat

 Time is only just a picnic mat. 

There: on that corner:

Are halves of kinoos. Where 

We: you and I,  are together. 

And  here  on   these   corners:

               Wept grapes. 

                 We are

                    Not.

And look

Between here and there

I scurry 

On the checkered cloth of grief and joy

(Knitted soft with threads of dream)

Trying to tie knots

So that you and I 

And then and now

Will fold into themselves

(Ourselves)

And time will tangle and curl as your hair. 

But the happy truth is that

Time is only just a picnic mat. 

Flat.