what we know of time

nothing.  except maybe everything else happens simultaneously.  a kind of paper folding, faces on a socialbook showing bright summer on a page, wintry fields in another, all a hairbreadth away.  until made explicit, what do we know?  someone falls on the steps, a relative passes away, someone else forgets.  in the short distance between latitudes, you might be in the middle of a sequence.  and i, just about exactly where you are, on the other side of present.