I see them passing, flickering in and out of existence,
hurried minutes sealing now into then,
changing am to was before I can taste them--
they greet me and just as soon leave me behind
but in these instants I have poetry--delicious whispers and fuzzy mirrors,
                particles of meaning trapped on the page,
                waiting yet moving, like the rest of us
and I have you, my soul and being
that may depart one day,
and you leave behind all things shared, 
little miracles I enjoyed, tasted--even if for a moment--
and as they (dis)appear, I hope:
That verses, eager to breathe, longing to stay--
that they endure the passing, 
that they wander our lives,
that they seek refuge in our personal clocks,
and if we are lucky, my love, these verses will remain--these, and
perhaps the memory of you and me drinking
coffee in bed, waiting for the kids to wake up
                indifferent to the clocks around us.
David Aguilar is an English PhD student at Texas A&M--Commerce, researching bilingual interactions in writing centers. He received his M.A. in English from UTRGV and teaches rhetoric, composition, literature, and poetics. Besides a teacher, he is a poet, a husband, and a stepfather.

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