Passing Past
by David Ackley
It's over when this dull-eyed part-time cop waves us past
the mall gate, the skewed Toyota SUV, another cop with tape,
a smoking EMT, and something under a draped white sheet.
These skimmed fates of others slip by fast.
No one means to go that way, on an errand to the mall,
saving a minute for shopping, something that banal,
audited by strangers passing, barely slowing, glancing.
Time's never saved, whatever we meant.
Do with them or don't, all our minutes get spent.
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Author's Note
This owes --not enough--to the influence of Phillip Larkin, especially "Ambulances," one of the great poems of the 20th century.
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"singular irregularities."
Oh, wow! *
"Time's never saved"
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This made me grateful for the beauty of my life, because the end can be nothing more than a snip of the scissors. Well done, in every phrase.
So much truth. Wow, indeed.
Lxx
It helps to restructure value itself to read this poem, in a good way, though the poem has a gloomy atmosphere that feels separate (in a good way) from the speaker, yet attached in human unity. *
Thanks, Friends, all, for your reaction to this dour little piece picked from the roadside.
Tch tch--cosmic crash-poem convergence? Dueling lyrics? In a good way, to quote Doyen Ann. (I liked them both, btw) *
What everyone said. ****
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Thanks, Matthew, R.K., Sam, David and Gary for giving this a read and your favor.
Fine poem, David. "skimmed" paired with "fates" and "audited by strangers" especially fine.
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*, David. Really good writing. I love the piece's premise. Great line:
"These skimmed fates of others slip by fast."