During elementary school, I was pulled out of class
for remedial lessons on how to tell time.
I could read above my grade level
but not the present moment.
My guessing game was discovered:
on worksheets with clock faces,
I simply stabbed.
Aya Sensei sat with me outside our classroom.
And so, at age nine, I learned analog.
For years after, I was known as timekeeper,
watch always upon wrist.
A decade and a half later,
only my laptop kept time during jail visits.
Here in Arizona, in a house with no clocks,
only overpriced electronics
signal the hour.
All this to say: I know time
does not tick linear.
When I close my eyes,
I smell forest and hear the creek
roar off mountain.