No one knows what life is, or means,
or what death is, or why it is
but for the last few years I find myself
feeling like a bead on a string
sliding along in the one allowed direction
Or maybe I am part of an abacus
Remember those?
Some unseen force
making math out of beads and nothing
addition subtraction clack clack clack
a calculus of logical destinies
My people who went ahead
have slipped the string
and fled the abacus
and are everything or nothing now
either spangled across time
like a fine, gold exhale
or are waiting for me
to break that membrane
Red Rover Red Rover, let Judy come over
in the late summer evening
that is forever, that is home
that is humming with light
