"Eastern Standard Time"
Poetry speaks to all people, it is said,
but here I would like to adddress
only those in my own time zone,
this proper slice of longitude
that runs from pole to snowy pole
down the globe through Montreal to Bogota.Oh, fellow inhabitants of this singular band,
sitting up in your many beds this morning--
the sun falling through the windows
and casting a shadow on the sundial--
consider those in other zones who cannot hear these words.They are not slipping into a bathrobe as we are,
or following the smell of coffee in a timely fashion.Rather, they are at work already,
leaning on copy machines,
hammering nails into a house-frame.They are not swallowing a vitamin like us;
rather they are smoking a cigarette under a half moon,
even jumping around on a dance floor,
or just now sliding under the covers,
pulling down the little chains on their bed lamps...."
