12:34 A.M.

Sometimes life
makes sense a moment.
I pass the digital clock
and it's 12:34.
Things line up.
I feel a weird
paranormal rush.
This is the place!
This is where
poetry and philosophy
make their elegant mistakes.
I linger a moment,
do something stupid.

I look again,
it's 12:35.

Where did the 4 go?

Probably murdered.
Or lockdown. Stitches in the e.r.
Or worse: off cheating
on either 3 or 5,
whichever it's closer to.
I've heard both stories
from 4 (with many tears)
and, frankly, I no longer believe
a single thing comes out
of the shitbag's mouth.