The Clock

Platform light.Closing doors.A chimeslightly late.Across the streetsomeone raises a brush.Does not move.A cyclistholds one footabove the pedal.A hand above a drumwaits.Less than a second.Then the train pulls away.Brush.Pedal.Drum.Traffic.Everything lands together.A watch checked.One second behind.Set right.Two stations later:behind again.Waited for the doors.The chime sounded.The second returned.A strange relieffor something so small.