wake me later

sometimes i wish i could stop time
and tiptoe between all the nameless people
frozen in mid-stride
in mid-conversation
reaching into their purses and pockets
to see what they were hiding
and mimicking their facial expressions

sometimes i wish i could stop time
and walk onto the highway
sitting down on the hood of a car
that moments ago was doing 80
that would still be doing 80
were it not frozen in place
a look of sheer terror on the driver's face
as his brake foot hangs
halfway between heaven and hell
as the old man in front cuts him off
as i sit on the hood
and pick at a chip in the paint

but the only things that don't move today
are the hands on the clock on the wall
like the hands of a stingy prison warden
holding the keys to my freedom