If I am here to steal time
might as well steal tomorrow
far away from dissonant beeps
you give a time a tender touch
grasp it like a handful of sand
you twist it and shape it
stretch it and squeeze it
but do not go gentle into that good night
rage, rage against the dying of the light
the breath on the needle of the clock
long just as my walk home
and short as cigarette I burn on it
I pass the memory districts
strawberry streets that you used to run through so vicious
and now I can't go to sleep before I write this down
because memory will vanish with a radiant burst
of a day locked in and out the other one
the skin you can't fit in
the enthusiasm and thirst for life
because we still have the light
it just transcends into our lives
as we learn how much time we had
the sea will wash away the signs you made in the sand
but for what you did under the surface
there is always an ampersand
don’t think about elephants
put your hands in the pockets of my pants
for each finger a monkey to caress on