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There is an analog clock in the living room
The last one left
Since I broke the one that was a gift to Wei
Who left it, when he left
Some time ago
It’s truly analog, running on gears and battery
Not a digital timepiece with performative hands receiving signals
From windings web-connected to GPS
It came with me, unlike the gift clock
From the, unknown to me at the time,
aforementioned time-delimited relationship

In all I have seven devices
To track time
Including one that I carry around
In my pocket
So that I am never disconnected from this minute
Right now
Nor ever really need the sun
To tell me what time it is
They keep changing the sun, anyway

I spend a lot of time looking
For the place that I last set this expensively versatile
But still, time piece, down
Wandering from room to room
Evoking in my brain its color and shape
The more easily to spot it
And still, reflexively
Habitually
Compulsively
I check the time
On whichever of the seven devices
Falls beneath my sweeping gaze

In a drawer I have watches
Several
Stopped
Inert
timeless
from a time when we strapped time
to a wrist
A simple analog that did nothing
But tell me the time
Anytime I needed to know
(which is all the time)

Even as I sit on the toilet my eyes go
To the large digital display
on a shelf in the office opposite
another artifact of the marriage
deliberately placed
so I can see it from this position

The kitchen has two clocks, digital,
Appliance embedded
One above the other
They never show the same time
Always a minute or two at odds
They remind me that in my analog childhood
There were no minutes,
At best there were quarter hours
Of, til, before, after, past
Whatever little-hand hour marker was next up
Or just done

There is no clock in the back bedroom
Which no one uses
So perhaps there is no time there
It sits suspended, waiting for a visit
Giving me a feeling of momentary panic
As my eyes slide past the large office display
Seeking confirmation that no time has passed
In the few seconds it has taken
To traverse the house

Back in the living room I’m seated with my back to the little analog
And have to crane my neck to check it
But no matter.
If I reduce from full screen
I can see the tiny affirmation in the upper corner
That time marches on

shared for the dverse Open Link night of 5/13/21

12 thoughts on “Analog

  1. I love this. I can relate to it all, especially
    ‘They remind me that in my analog childhood
    There were no minutes,
    At best there were quarter hours
    Of, til, before, after, past
    Whatever little-hand hour marker was next up
    Or just done’

    • The idea that there is such a thing as “5:41” will never not be weird. Especially in wit of: the kitchen clocks.

  2. Did you find your pocket watch??? I unplugged the digital clock in the bedroom after retirement. I got tired of its haunting and its demanding scream on weekday mornings. Now I use my phone as an alarm clock when needed. It has a soothing sound when it goes off. It means I’m needed or wanted somewhere.

  3. This is incredibly potent! I especially resonate with; “They remind me that in my analog childhood/There were no minutes,/At best there were quarter hours/Of, til, before, after, past/Whatever little-hand hour marker was next up/Or just done.”💝💝

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