on.

they say that time isn't linear--
we only perceive it as such.

so maybe in some small corner of the cosmos,
nesting in the holes comets make in the sky, perhaps,
I will always be there with you

in that too-hot room with the
too-soft bed and the
too-firm pillows,
with the silent velvet of your lower lip
beneath my thumb
and the occasional brushings and minglings
of our feet as the immigrant children next door
perch nervously on their new used bicycles

it's comforting to know
that the universe knows even my tiniest of moments,
knew them from the very beginning
and keeps them in little glass jars,
row upon row upon row
things I may forget mingling with others
I will never know and others
that I couldn't forget if I beat my brain raw

and even though I'm strapped nervously and
somewhat unwillingly to the
arrow Time,
it's only a trick of the mind,
the idea
that we are moving
at all.