Eight minutes

In eight minutes I could
Catch up with the headlines
Boil two eggs – consecutively
Take a shower
Grind beans, boil water, make coffee.

In eight minutes I could
Fall in love
Say my vows
Conceive a child
Sign my will.

Eight minutes would prove insufficient
To conduct an argument
Prove a point
Take things to their logical conclusion:
These things take time…

If I could go back in time
Eight minutes
What would I choose to do?
Walk to the postbox – and back
Clean the bathroom
Straighten or curl my hair?

Eight minutes ago
I had not yet decided
What I would do
With this eight minutes: yet
Eight minutes ago
The light that illumines me now
Left the sun
To take its long journey…
And now continues
Scattered and reflected
Bounced and bewildered
Into the deep darkness of outer nothing.

I exist in its past
My present
Is its future.

Eight minutes on
I have written this poem.
That’s all.