the algonquin troubador temp-o-glide xl
spit polished chrome airfoil time machine
flyze better in the night sky
time is more fluid in the dark
easier to penetrate
like a tuning fork through alphabet soup
or a double edged sword
through a spelling bee
shadows hold moments
like leaves in a duane eddy
the nighttime time machine
surfs forth on a black wave
riding the ticktock froth
fluttering like a midnite moth
the rhythmic pattern
of chronological flotsam
antediluvian jetsam
time curls and breaks
spilling events
here and there
and forth
and back
and fifth and fourth
the shiny chrome time machine
surfs on the future
gliding through pipe dreams
and every thing that is to come
sailing into the past
never here, never now
riding the wake
of lucid dreamers