I'm performing
exploratory surgery;
plunging a scalpel
in the interstice
between my discontent
and my gratitude.

you can feel
the uncertainty in the touch
most days

long pauses,
trembling fingers...
perhaps a slight shake in the hands

a fair five minutes
looking me in the face
after each foray

hand drops from chin,
eyes grow wide
and the clicking away
becomes non-stop
and aggressive

head tilts
lip-reading a line or two
head shakes either yes or no

chair leans back
scanning the whole from afar;
a few terminal clicks

public, save,

then power, sleep...
and I see no more

leave me your moments spent
without thinking, staring into space
while on hold or waiting in line
for your slush of cold coffee

all that time pulsing away
from an opened artery
of your life

drop your minutes wasted
listening sort of
to the drivel of an almost friend
into the jar held below my sign
"starving for attention - please help"

leave me your moments spent
without thinking
of me:

i'll have all the time in the world