Re-written
October 10th, 2009Where will we go if we don’t know where we’ll be?
maybe to bed,
maybe to sleep.
You could go under the covers
and be out for a week
or head out into space,
to like, Pluto or Mercury–
where you’re so close to the sun,
you might burn up into bits so tiny
that you can’t even see any of these parts and pieces
that you used to be.
And that’d be fine,
if you want to settle here for now,
your molecular self just floating about–
and thinking that if you’re thinking,
then this must all be a dream!
As you orbit the sun
you think you know what this means
but ‘does not compute’
pops up on your screen
so as you begin to reboot like a robot machine
with rocket-thruster feet
and eyes shooting laser beams–
you fly out past the edges,
maybe toward Tattooine,
Remembering to an eye out for Jedi that might be protecting a queen.
Then your arms start changing to fit the scene,
and when you speak to R2D2, you act like you know what he means,
“Pee-o comma See-three?” you hear a nearby hologram speak,
all flickering and staticy and green.
Will you wake up?
No, not yet.
Not until these things burst at the seam.
Not until my whole head starts to sweat,
and my body starts shaking,
with a 100 100lb weights on my chest,
still tossing and turning,
until my fucking alarm lets loose with its crazy-ass beeps
as the day yawns, stretches and says,
“Good morning.”