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The Bus I’ve Been On for Hours Has a Digital Clock at the Front, and, God, It’s Just One More Thing Today, Isn’t It? MAG
There is something comforting
and primitive
hidden in the way the eye falls
on the fragmented segments
of a digital clock.
Born to the age of microwaves
and stove-top timers,
my earliest memories are of memorizing the intricacies of that numerical rectangle.How does one form the fluid body
of an eight,
the swan’s neck of a two,
the unbroken line of a zero?
By crippling their gentle curvatures,
squeezing until every shape bears
cruel corners and a uniformity
for the sake of
practicality,
convenience,
obedience.

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