Minutes and Hours and Days

View from Within

Photo by Niklas Hamann on Unsplash

There’s an analog clock on the bank that’s a Thai restaurant now and the hands have been stuck around two-twelve since I can remember.

I wonder if the hands just died there, or if it gradually passed on, gasping for strength to keep twisting, and the clock finally gave out at seven forty, or nine twenty five, telling the world, erroneously, that it was two twelve.