Dave Bonta's poem is about those slippery stretches of a day when nothing much seems to be happening, and about how strange it feels to waste them. It opens with a quiet shift from morning to afternoon, as if the speakers barely notice time passing. Then they "adjourn to the road," a phrase that sounds oddly formal for something as casual as a chance meeting.
The middle of the poem is its sharpest moment. The "meanwhile" is described as "treason against the now," which suggests that drifting through in-between time betrays the present moment. The speaker seems uneasy, even a little guilty, about this.
The ending is a puzzle: burying "in the churchyard / the church." Something big is being put into something smaller, or something is being swallowed by its own setting. Judging by the title, the image may point to time being buried by our attempts to kill it. The mood is reflective, wry, and slightly unsettled.