time zones.

those zones, those zones,

that tell a tale of woulds and coulds

when the sun rises with the moon

and his sleep is her wake

when her words become stale,

sittin in his inbox, unchecked and unread

fretfully wonderin if he’s awake

and

his dreams seem incomplete, knowing she’s beginning

all the possibilities and tragedies that daylight brings.

South Kuta Bali Sea, Indonesia 

as she waits and he waits for

his light to rise, and her light to set

they long for

the AM and PM to collide and comprise…

this invaluable, small space set in somebody else’s

time

the universe knows its not him

its not her

but

untold stories and unmet wishes and wants

lost among the zones, oh those many different zones.

the standard - the local – the pacific - the summer

the GMT, the EST, the EAT, the BST,

and of course, we become caught up in the PST

even the Irish have the IST

and the cricket players and ballers have their fans

who cheer through the AM as friends and family watch during the PM

oh those zones

Tbilisi Photo Festival 2013, Night of Photography

skype dates and fake playmates

your time and my time

whose time should we meet?

when your lunch is my midnight ice cream cone.

and then you say

Saturday is 2 mornings away

but then your Sunday is my workday.

let’s comprise

and fight the time

so they wait.

for their times to willfully collide.

when he can catch her right before her shut-eye.

when she can catch him before his flight

and he can find her at rest, on a bus, or just at best…

and she can find him glowing green on the internet screen.

longing and wishing and wanting and hoping

and waiting.

til she wakes

and he sleeps

so her daydreams become his sweetdreams

and her sunsets will become his sunrise.

yes, they will find the time to collide.