I. – How It Works
It’s lonely, situated at this one sea,
on this one beach on this one planet
in this one solar system in this one galaxy.
Can’t even get a good argument
up any more, I’m so old.
And forgetful. Are galaxies bigger
than solar systems? Or is it vicey-versa?
And speaking of verse, where does
the universe fit in? Between
galaxy and the solar system?
After solar system but before
the galaxy? Before the galaxy
but after the…
you get the idea:
Out there, somewhere?
We couldn’t find the stars
we see tonight if we had to:
they are so gone now,
stacked behind each other, chuckling
at our telescopes and fractals,
playing hide-n-go-seek with time/
spatial relationships. Leaving
their pinpricks of onceness
in the canopy of our, our what?
galaxy? universe? interpretation? simply
to fit our mythology: we are alone,
we are not alone, god
loves me, he love me not…
II. – Why It Matters
My friend Ellen wanted to go to the sun
when we were seven.
After trying to dissuade her re:
impossibility, heat, distance,
improbability, space, and her
mother’s call to dinner at five-forty-five,
I stretched a humongous rubber band
between two swingset posts, and
pulled back as far as I could
without tumping the playground equipment:
implicating Ellen firmly in the apex
of the mode of transport,
GERONIMORE!!!, we cried,
sort of simultaneously, and
SPROING-OING-OING!!!, released
her to her vagary.
I never saw her again.
Her parents reproduced and did
not miss her much, except at five-
forty-six that one day.
I’ve been lonely ever since,
in this one galaxy in this one solar system
in this one universe on this one planet
on this one beach at this one sea.
©2012 – Mark A. Douglas – All Rights Reserved
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