A Slit, a Pool
Fancy a glimpse of the Infinite?
—Of course you do. You, like me, are mortal.
And what is more mortal than a wish not to be?
One day, perhaps sooner, perhaps later,
We return to the dust from which we arose.
But not to be gloomy!
We live in a world where cars drive themselves.
Yet no product from companies A or G
Can touch what I see, here, alone in my room.
A cat’s eye can cut you or absorb you —
A razor you do not understand,
A pool into which you will fall,
Yet never reach its vital depths.
It may be gold, green or blue, but fear not! —
Your gaze will be returned without pity,
Cold in the January wind one moment,
And a sweet late spring day the next.
Destructive Anachronism 