Time and Timepieces (Last Night’s Dream)

Poetry by Valerie Fox

There was this wall of sound clicking
that you almost remember

      an action repeated ten times.

Servitude transitioning
to words that start with T.

You notice horizons and vanishing
       points.

You are a child
not an alligator.

That watch was a bad-luck present

from (__________).

Your enemy sidles up to your coupons.
Enter the advertising
industry
      (wearing a toga).

You are ever the child
like that Dickens character
who prostitutes his daughters, sort of.

Calendars paper your walls, tilted
in pursuit.

A poor outlook.