7670
A number very much towards the thin end of infinity:
Three times the number of Tesco stores
But only a third of McDonald’s;
The number of years needed to take us back to the dawn of recorded time –
Well past the Iliad, the Odyssey, the Maya and the Pyramids
To the very first ‘modern’ human settlements,
To the end of transhumance,
To Sumer and signs and shapes in clay
That would be buried then uncovered & decoded in our day.
7670
Someone’s PIN number,
Tapped-in times daily like a crazy magic,
Translating digits into all kinds of currency:
Food, clothes, cars and iTunes downloads –
A sort of key to the Door of Infinite Variety…
Provided the software sentinel guarding the gateway
Gives you leave to enter,
Else you’ll be locked out of your personal Eden
Like Adam and Eve after that Tree of Knowledge apple.
7670
A product number for a Star Wars ‘Hailfire Droid’ Lego construction kit;
The Paris postal address of a Chambre d’Hôte
Beside the famous Père Lachaise cemetery
Where serious types like Balzac, de Lesseps, Molière & Champollion,
Rub cold shoulders with the likes of Marcel Marceau, Oscar Wilde & Jim Morrison;
A Gas Cloud in Pisces, recorded and catalogued –
23 : 27.2 (hours : minutes): Ascension,
-00 : 11 (degrees : minutes) Declination.
7670
The grand sum of the days of twenty-one years
[Duly calibrated for the 5-odd February 29ths]:
The time you’ve been ‘Grace’, my daughter,
[Though I had been wishing you into being from far earlier,
I so wanted to see you, hold you and talk with you].
It’s been a privilege to watch you grow into yourself,
Into your life, your prime
And I hope at 21, the life of your time.
