in slowing down,
no patience for the gradual,
losing our love for the languid,
leisurely, lingering, unhurried
use of time and savouring of place.
We demand speed, efficiency,
the slick-quick rush to save minutes,
only to waste them in our slack,
tardy, tedious complaining of life
and its queues and its hesitation,
it's dullards and dimwits in deceleration.
We decide our own speeds
for our own needs and damn
those who waste the time
that we prefer to waste ourselves.
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