CPU.rtf

To-do list:

-Take out garbage
-Call Walgreens about debt collector calls
-Pick up eggs, beer, syrup, bananas
-Wash dark-delicates
-Call landlord about ants and silverfish
-INTERCEPT MARCUS AND THE ORION DEVICE

That last one strikes me as odd
because I don’t know
a Marcus
and don’t remember
writing it on the list.

Maybe…
it was a helpful
prophetic ghost,
or a dimensional or cosmic
entity with business here
but no concept of appropriate
social graces,
or myself, a happenstance
time traveler.
These reasons
I could understand.

That last one strikes me,
and I bet my future self
has slept with lots
all over history, a gyrating
sweat bead wetting the ribbons
of time, and I wonder if da Vinci
and Mona Lisa and Benedict Arnold and Shaq
and Dolly Parton are my children.
But then I wonder
what’s happened in the future
that I would want such an escape,
but mostly I wonder
what happens to my wife.

I’m cold, but I don’t think
it’s because I’m still
at the refrigerator.
I need to stop before I form
a new, terrible reality
that I can’t be certain doesn’t exist
until her car pulls in the driveway
and I know I can open the apartment door
without disintegrating.