There was a time I measured life by class hours, notes taken as truth in school. I am no longer there. That time is past. Hitchhiking, beachcombing, lying in the grass before work expanded to fill expansion rules. There was a time I measured life by class- mates when I waited for the looking glass to say: He loves you. Or: You're beautiful. I am no longer there. That time is past when grains of sand in the hourglass top had not yet become precious jewels and I could measure life by class consciousness, when love like Candlemas loomed ahead, blinding but available. I am no longer there. The time is past for collecting. Now things do not amass intact. And I no longer suffer fools but measure life by laughs not class books. I am no longer theirs, but passed.