I go up and down nursing home corridors
behind my walker wearing my black tee shirt
which has a white question imposed on it
that covers my chest:
WHAT IS THE SPEED OF DARK?
Folks confronted by this tall man
take furtive glances
and think I might be slightly crazy —
give me quick nods, then move on.
I am soliciting entertainment
which only I appreciate.
This helps me get through my day —
this pretense of measuring
the velocity of darkness.
I’ve seen enough here to think
I know a little bit about it.