The Clock Shop

he knew it was time
the pristine gold fob could no longer keep up
and he lost more than minutes each day
dependent on his father's bequeathed
it was a chain that needed unlinked

cobblestone roofed, the ticks resounded
as both warning and enticement
sand falling from his sandals
as he entered the clock shop

Grandfathers weighted with pendulous advice
Alarms armed with waking strength
Tiffany's twirling with diamond precision
all the tocks ticking
pounding at once, drumming their insistence
that each second counted

his heart beating could not keep up
with the ticks tocking
like fists beating on his chest
like voices that whisper as one
but shout as 24.

his decision made
he purposely stuffed the timepiece in his jacket
rejuvenated like an infusion of insulin
still they clammored
hammering against inner brass balloons
mocking and mimicking with bombing throbs

a bestilled silence
outside the clock shop
he had to look just once with relief
at the time he had bought himself:
the only watch in the store
that did not tick

and did not work