Less Time

Less time than it takes to say it, less tears than it takes to die;

I've taken account of everything,there you have it.

I've made a census of the stones, they are as numerous as my fingers and someothers;

I've distributed some pamphlets to the plants, but not all were willing to accept them.

I'vekept company with music for a second only and now I no longer know what to think of suicide, forif I ever want to part from myself, the exit is on this side and,

I add mischievously, the entrance, there-entrance is on the other.

You see what you still have to do.

Hours, grief,

I don't keep areasonable account of them;

I'm alone,

I look out of the window; there is no passerby, or rather noone -passes- You don't know this man?

It's Mr.

Same.

May I introduce

Madam?

And their children.

Then I turn back on my steps, my steps turn back too, but I don'tknow exactly what they turn back on.

I consult a schedule; the names of the towns have beenreplaced by the names of people who have been quite close to me.

Shall I go to A, return to B,change at X?

Yes, of course I'll change at X.

Provided I don't miss the connection with boredom!

There we are: boredom, beautiful parallels, ah! how beautiful the parallels are under God's perpendicular.