Under the Milky Way Tonight

A long quaff of whiskey that makes me gag,

Some fool on the street calling me “a fag,”

A streetlamp further down, burning bright,

Under the steely moonlight.

Playing with fire, walking semi-drunk —

What does it mean? What is the movie scene?

A script, a pen, a bed of roses,

Passing by a burning house and firehoses.

It could add up to just a cosmic joke,

A trick for a god to give us all a poke.

But perhaps there is some deeper meaning.

Something more than the spider on the ceiling?

A burst of cosmic logic,

Magical in its knowledge of this and that —

And here I’m wearing my father’s hat!

So I ponder as I walk along,

Past shops that sell and pawn,

Whether this is the only universe,

Or if there are what physicists call the multiverse.

Endless universes, countless in number,

Where all sorts of creatures fuck and slumber.

A place for you and a place for me,

The concept of boundless opportunity.

The streetlamp glows, then sputters,

And I will soon be under the covers.

But yet, one thinks and thinks,

Maybe then a few stiff drinks.

I’ll scratch the cat’s head, give him food,

Then I’ll retire for good.

The Earth will turn and turn,

California will continue to burn,

Yet in this brief time between theory and action,

I’ll stare up at the sky in awe.

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~ by Benji on 25 October 2015.

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