time passes slowly (and fades away)

i'm waiting to meet you,
sitting on a fence.
it's the hottest part of the day
but there's a slight breeze atop this
small hill overlooking the town below.
i'm not a known fence-sitter,
but i do indulge myself every now and then when there's no one around.

from my precipice i can see all the little buildings
with their little doors, windows,
little parking lots (with little, parked cars) and little occupants.
the air is clear atop my hill, but i can sense the smell of human industry below.

i once saw jung in a flaming chariot,
his hair tousled as if he didn't get much sleep,
his expression grim as if he watched too much CNN.
"hey carl, what's the deal?", i asked.
"jus' waitin' for my friend, man, jus' waitin' for my friend."