Where it Not

No one paid attention to details.
The day became clear in bits, there was no time
for continuity.

Someone disappeared at the corner.
A wind blew, it was
cloudy. The sun emerged
and hid.

Nothing hurts as it once did.
Were it not so short a time it could have been fun.
Boulevard Sébastopol was snarled
by traffic, but the bus inched
forward.
It was clear that I was late.
My past and future shone to the same degree.

.
by Israel Pincus
from Poetry International Web