A train passes and I think of infinity,
that stretch of forever and some.
It is my mind that goes on.
The excess of heartbreak.
A man stops my writing to ask for tobacco.
I think of the leaves, to be carrying leaves,
and I tell him no, I don't smoke.
He replies, "Oh, okay then. Very well."
Where was I? Oh yeah. The universe,
in all its infinity and magnitude,
has undoubtably pinpointed you,
will grab you by the shoulders and rough you up.
"You think you can escape unnoticed," it says.
"But I --" you reply. "I was just standing here."
"That's what you'd like to think."
"I was thinking that," you sputter.
The universe has it out for you.
It knows your cousin, deeply.
It will stop at nothing to stop at nothing.
Hungerily, the universe will devour you.
Then you will live in the belly of the universe.
Forever and ever, amen.
This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.