Lightyears Catching Us

The owl with its eyes in its hands. Measuring the donkey's ass. To determine how deep the bottom is. Dull claws. Draw trenches in the dust. Half a bottle. Maybe less. To thrill the question. Long blank spaces. Laugh at the notion. Children on their toes. All those toys behind the glass.

Phobias of dead men. And petty gods. Spoil the maps. The monkey bends over to tie its shoe. And he misses out on evolution. He'll catch it at the next station.

The mouse with her many babies. The cat locked into her trail. The atom belongs to each of them. The elevator pauses. The landing is there. An infinite expanse of faces. Stairways to places yet to exist. gods on their stilts. Stumbling over sorely bent necks.

Heaven comes in awkward stares. Pots of shit yet to be flushed. Digging. Dirty fingernails.

Are my only evidence. Of how far we've come.