What Time It Gets To Be

I was just getting to that. But first, old age. If you could just let me finish. Once it was I who rudely interrupted proceedings: the chair rapped & called to order, but I seized from pending approval the minutes & ran off with the handsome mustachioed night watch. Matching wits we wound up jangling on a motel bureau in simultaneous alarm & ran down together to silence, Bide-a-Wee’s appointed guest in his sleep deceased so far from home he didn’t know a soul. A what? We heard Gideons rustling in the drawer, & as we rifled the fellow’s bags before we fled, & fled, his time flew too, from his cuffs &collars flapping ahead.