When I'm dead,
in lieu
of flowers, please
just stop
and consider
how, right now,
ageless light
from the edge
of the visible universe—
that is:
weightless wave-
particles, for whom it's
always now—
are somehow
still irrevocably
on their way "here"
through the cold
endless vacuum
of indifference
that's "there."
And yet,
still, every day,
how distracted
I remained
(and if you're still
skimming this, clearly
so did you)
by words
just like these,
which, after all,
were just ads
for things
which I knew
but could never
admit—and
for feelings
I never even dreamed
I had.
