The Hamlet Project

Watching my watch
As I stand here, on the watch
I’m struck with the way seconds tick by
And how we attempt to hasten them
Minute by minute.
The rivals of my watch
(It’s almost gold and it wants everything ordered and divided into minutes and hours and days)
are blues skies over green grasses under our backs
are slow kisses and hands exploring skin and
crumpled clothing and twisted sheets and sweat
are belly shaking laughter with table pounding insight
are lights pooling on a stage around my feet
are words pouring quickly from my pen
are pages turning, full of story.
These make the second hand spin in vain and each hour
Pass unmarked
Which makes each gear click in frustration.
If I explain to my watch that in the notes of this Penguin Edition of the Play, the word “rivals” means “companions” and that it’s one of those words that now means the opposite
My watch might nod and accept it
It might concede that these moments of timelessness
Are its bosom companions
Ticking along next to one another
Or it might tock from 6 to 7
And scoff at scholars who make convenient translations.
Bid them make haste
Walk more quickly
Think more quickly
Breathe more quickly
Die more quickly
You rivals of my watch.