THE PROBLEM WITH NOW

There’s a truck that’s stopped.

How could this be the start of a poem you ask –
but it is!

The poem is about living in the now.

So there’s a truck that’s stopped.

But you’re not seeing
what I’m seeing.

You hear the word ‘truck’
and your mind goes to
- bread truck, furniture removals truck, courier truck.

Stop thinking then.
It’s not like that.

A woman,
blonde,
beautiful,
gets out the driver’s side,
hitches up her skirt,
fixes some stockings
and pulls a gun from a purse.

That’s not right.

She climbs into the back
of the truck.

Here’s the thing –

if you happened to be passing by now
you would only see a truck,
nothing out the ordinary.

My now would be different
from your now.

You would not have written a poem like this.

Your poem would say
‘there’s a truck’
that’s all.

I look at my watch
and notice
I am late for work.

That’s the problem with now,
it waits for nobody,
not even
beautiful,
blonde women
with guns.