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Time Traveler In a World Without Time...pages from my diary written in an interplanetary asylum

 

Time Travel

by Daley

Time Traveler

                In A World Without Time

The plane set down in 1957

A Friday morning on a cold wet day

Even though I had left the day before on a warm dry Sunday night

And the sun had been shining for four months in Spitsbergen.

I was rather sleepy, having not slept

For twenty-two minutes or so

And my yawns sounded somewhat musical

In a braying donkey kind of hee haw way.

Peter Cushing was starring in the movie

They'd been showing on board, I remembered

Some horrible thing called a horror movie

No, that's not right, it was a terrible film

And it was silent. (Except for all the snoring.)

As a matter of fact, there had been

No in-flight movie of any kind that night

Only a couple of Saturday Evening Posts

And Photo Play magazines, muchly thumbed through.

I hailed a Black and Purple taxicab

That took me to my hotel, some modernistic thing

Called The Holiday Out

Where no one with even half a reputation would stay.

There were hardly any doors to speak of

Only thin slits in the bricks to squeeze through

And after you'd lost ten pounds in the effort

You found yourself, confusingly, somewhere outside Marrakesh

In 1965.

65???  What? I hadn't even been born yet!

Or had I? My mother hadn't told me, you see

Any details about that happy occasion

Or if, indeed it had been happy or if it had even happened at all.

I just seemed to wake up one morning

And there I was. Yawning.

Wearing soft white pajamas with little giraffes on them

Mysteriously holding an orange object that could have been a ball.....

Or an orange.

But enough about me. I'm a boring subject

The really interesting people are all in there

(In the places you come out of when you realize

You're in the wrong place)

I've met a few characters in there, believe me!

The bi-polar clown, the man with no heart,

The invisible woman who could only be seen

In the glow of the full moon,

The song that sang itself.

I rode through the desert on a horse

With no.......

Name? Yeah, that's it. No name. Or saddle.      Ouch!

Time travel can really be tiresome at times

Especially if you are travelling in the time before Time

Or before Timex watches 

('Cause Grandfather Clocks were just too big to carry around.)

It's always 4:30 when there is no Time to be told

I forget who told me that. Oh, now I remember!

A chap in a porkpie hat selling pork pies in Trafalgar Square

He wore a bowtie and short pants but only one shoe

(Probably because he only had one leg)

Ah, yes! The porkpie guy. Rupert Something.

In between times, you can't laugh

No matter how funny something is,

You can only weep

Bizarre, really, but no more bizarre than most things

I've experienced on those invisible pathways.

There's a very tall building in one realm....get this.... 

With absolutely nothing in it but seesaws

And unadorned Christmas trees

Looking for presents to hover over.

But December never comes there

That month is totally skipped over

No December 25ths at all

You go directly from Thanksgiving turkey 

To New Year's Day hangovers. Or thereabouts.

In one place, it was continually Halloween

And in another, it was always the day after tomorrow

Bankers in thousand dollar suits scrubbed floors

And poor people counted money.

I quite enjoyed that.........

(I was poor, you see)

I was always bloody poor

No matter what time period I ended up in 

(And I was always looking for french fries.)

I fell in and out of love several times, I recall

But always with the same fellow, oddly enough

He, too, was a time traveler stuck in a rut

Between here and there and he always carried a Polaroid camera

Heaven knows where he got his film!

We spent three glorious weeks in a library once

Camped out in the stacks, perusing books of all kinds

Trying desperately to figure out 

What the proverbial "Birds and the Bees" scenario was all about.

We had hitched a time warp back to that awkward age

When we were both going through and pushing past puberty

But without embarrassed parents to tell us 

What it was that we needed to know but did not know

We found books with ghastly pictures that implied

That babies came from a boy/girl conjunction but we were dubious.

By the time we had  figured it out and got caught doing it

We were kicked out of said library by a cross and startled librarian

Who appeared to be from a seventeenth century nunnery

Even though she was wearing a Fitbit and sole-less shoes.

Once, we had a mere fifteen minutes together

It was in Paris and we were drinking frozen wine

At some little outdoor café called Vin Congele´

(It was very romantic but it was January and twenty below.)

We never knew where we would run into one another

Or if we would or how or when or why

Time travel is a game of chance, a draw of the cards

And often not exactly a pleasant experience

If you haven't gotten over that quarrel during your last encounter.

The most bizarre I suppose, took place in 1849 in the wild Wild West

When I found myself coming out of a teepee clutching a tomahawk

While my love, a sexy and disheveled cowboy, lay staked down to an ant hill

Begging for mercy and a Bud Light.

I will not tell you how that turned out

Neither will I recount several centuries of incidents

That will either turn you against me

Or make you fall madly in love. Maybe both.

Oh, look! A squirrel!!!

Let's just say that the Earth looks pretty from Mars

And that there is one planet out there

Totally inhabited by women that look exactly like me

(Except they are blue and speak in a Swahili/Russian dialect

 They giggle a lot and wear bikinis made entirely from their own hair.

Perhaps I should end this saga here, my faithful readers er.... reader

And take the tale up again when you have digested everything thus far

And wrapped your mind around the incongruity of it all

And when you are sober............or sane

©by Voo Shining Stone, Poet, Writer

And Involuntary Time Traveler

In the year 2020

(possibly)

(probably)

(They told me there would be a year like this

somewhere in the future) So yeah.....this must be the year

It's so 2020-ish

Proof of Time Travel, ya'll.... Peter Dinklage Uh huh.

👀😝

But just wait for 2021!!!!!!

It shall be 7000 days and 18 nights long!!!!!

KFC will run out of rubber chickens,

the cows will all become bulls

White Castle hamburgers will be re-named

something less offensive,

donkeys will run wild in the streets

and there shall be no ....uh....

no....uh......

Um. Nothing. There shall be nothing..................