Count one.
Lose one.
The shore keeps score
with its mouth full of sun.

There’s a clock in the kitchen with a soft little limp,
second hand dragging like it knows too much.
Coffee goes cold by the window rim,
steam disappears without making a fuss.
I used to think time came carrying thunder,
some black horse running through the door.
But it moves like a leak under floorboards,
one quiet dark inch more and more.
Birthday candle.
Hospital band.
Receipt in a drawer with your name on my hand.
A face in the mirror learns how to thin,
and the boy I was stops asking to come in.
Every crown gets rust.
Every vow gets weather.
Every bright thing learns
how to leave together.

Minutes like water.
Hands full of nothing.
I try to hold on,
but the blue keeps running.
Wave after wave,
it takes what it taught us.
All of us going
in minutes like water.

I found an old picture with the corners bent,
you laughing hard in a borrowed coat.
Back when forever was money well spent,
back when my name had a younger throat.
Now the mailbox sticks, and the paint gives up,
grass grows wild through the walkway crack.
I keep small wars in a paper cup,
drink one down, then the years pour back.
The dead don’t shout.
The living do.
Both leave rooms I keep walking through.
I washed my hands.
I stained the sink.
I loved too fast.
I called it instinct.
But water don’t care what the story meant.
It rounds the stone.
It pays the rent.

Minutes like water.
Hands full of nothing.
I try to hold on,
but the blue keeps running.
Wave after wave,
it takes what it taught us.
All of us going
in minutes like water.

If I could stop one hour,
I’d pick the wrong one.
Some door half-open.
Some almost sun.
Some hand on my shoulder
before it let go.
Some word in my mouth
that I swallowed too slow.
But the tide does not bargain.
The glass does not plead.
The page takes the ink,
then the ink starts to bleed.

Minutes like water.
Hands full of nothing.
I tried to hold on,
but the blue kept running.
Wave after wave,
it takes what it taught us.
All of us leaving
in minutes like water.

Count one.
Lose one.
The shore says nothing.
The shore moves on.