The city never stops ticking.
Like a cheap clock.
People leap into their cars
to speed away to work.
To rush pell mell to all sorts
of services and meetings.
The trains and buses hurtle
along like mad creatures.
Then Lois M. Collins
steps out of an airplane.
She is a writer who can stop time
from running away unscathed
and unrecorded.
By stepping out of an airplane.
After all, anybody can step IN
to an airplane; but how many
people, let alone scribes,
can step OUT of an airplane?
In midair.
She does this with an
anti-gravity pencil.
Given to her by
Rudolph Binswanger.
The famous business
columnist for the
Tooele Transcript-Bulletin.
It allows her to suspend the
laws of gravity.
As long as her heart is pure
and she uses active verbs.
Lois has written that when
viewed from midair
the city no longer seems
in a hurry.
Instead, everything slows down
to the speed of snowflakes
calmly descending on a ledge
until they cause an avalanche.
How sad that Lois has lost
her magic pencil . . .
She left it at Trader Joe's
and a clerk used it
to open a portal to Schenectady
to visit a cousin.
And never returned.
Now Lois M. Collins
steps out of dollar stores.
In mid-sentence.
As she writes about shipwrecked
youth. And canned spinach.
Which gives us hope
in a better mousetrap.
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