`It's Tomorrow In Auckland'

``It's tomorrow in Auckland,''

the weatherman said.

``And that's a fact.

They're seventeen hours ahead

of us in New England.''

I glanced at the clock - 10 a.m. -

and wondered what I'd be doing

seventeen hours into the dim

future of 5 p.m. tomorrow.

And maybe I brushed the hem of

Omniscience, thinking: By then

surely much of what's presently

imperative might very well be

swept under the bridge, and any

gloom-threatening cloud

will have gone harmlessly over.

``Thanks, friend,'' I saluted

the voice with its comforting truth.

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