Without a Clock

It’s easy to live without a clock nowadays
at eight people are on the way to work
at ten the postman leaves his letters on the doormat.
It’s eleven and a group of tourists are circling around,
their guide is telling an unknown story
about the house I live in.
At twelve the church bells start ringing,
at one
there is no place at the parking lot,
at two the flies start whirling around the garbage cans,
at three children come back from school.
At four o’clock
I can hear the gas lit in the air balloons,
at five men and women are stuck in the traffic jam.
At six
they line up to buy some discounted death
At seven
I smell the dinner on my neighbour’s table,
at eight
there is nothing left in a market place.
Then, at night
the neighbours in the apartment nearby
are making love
from time to time.