Time Works So Hard For Us, If

I Like Writing About Big Turning Points, Where Professional And Personal Lives Coalesce, Where The Boundaries Are Coming Down, And You're Faced With A Set Of Choices Which Will Change Life Forever.

I Listen To The Things People Want Out Of Love These Days And They Blow My Mind. I Go To The Pub With The Boys From The Squad And Listen While They Explain, With Minute Precision, Exactly What Shape A Woman Should Be, What Bits She Should Shave How, What Acts She Should Perform On Which Date And What She Should Always Or Never Do Or Say Or Want; I Eavesdrop On Women In Cafes While They Reel Off Lists Of Which Jobs A Man Is Allowed, Which Cars, Which Labels, Which Flowers And Restaurants And Gemstones Get The Stamp Of Approval, And I Want To Shout, Are You People Out Of Your Tiny Minds?

Real Isn't What They Try To Tell You. Time Isn't. Grown-ups Hammer Down All These Markers, Bells, Schedules, Coffee-breaks, To Stake Down Time So You'll Start Believing It's Something Small And Mean, Something That Scrapes Flake After Flake Off Of Everything You Love Till There's Nothing Left; To Stake You Down So You Don't Lift Off And Fly Away, Somersaulting Through Whirlpools Of Months, Skimming Through Eddies Of Glittering Seconds, Pouring Handfuls Of Hours Over Your Upturned Face.

I’m The Least Fanciful Guy Around, But On Nights When I Wonder Whether There Was Any Point To My Day, I Think About This: The First Thing We Ever Did, When We Started Turning Into Humans, Was Draw A Line Across The Cave Door And Say: Wild Stays Out. What I Do Is What The First Men Did. They Built Walls To Keep Back The Sea. They Fought The Wolves For The Hearth Fire.

Her Forehead Was A Maze Of Anxious Little Grooves, From A Lifetime Of Wondering About Whether Everyone Within Range Was Ok.