The Wheel of the World

Spoonful of Rice Krispies

wrist watches flutter in the wind.

they always drip spoons, the

                                                     perfect time of day.

the time of today is longer

than yesterday

but all days ahead will be long.

not short like

cinnamon sticks in your

air vent,

but like spaghetti

crisp stuck to the burner.

it crackles in that rice

krispy way on a warm morning.

we lay on your winged roof

and eat pumpkin seeds

that swim inside us

building lego towers

with orange lipstick.

it sticks to my collarbone

like bubblegum on my notebook-

full of pictures.

ones of pocket watches

that stare

with twelve eyes

and reach with

two pulpy hands

through college

lined paper

searching

                        searching     

                                                for perfect time.