The Cosmos and I:
Irreconcilable Exuberance at the End of Its Tethers

by Pedro Bofecillos

Did I ever want you?
Want and choose you, I mean.
I don’t remember
and you of course can’t.

Did I ever love you?
You with your incessant demands:
feed me, keep me warm,
I’m bored, let’s fuck.

I was there, wasn’t I?
In sickness, through accidents,
I tended you, didn’t I?
Not that I had a choice.

And you were always
true to me, in your fashion.
Helping me go places, do things.
Not that you had a choice.

Who wed us, huh?
Remember me that, will you?
What ceremony, what mumbo-jumbo
produced this ringless superglue bond?

I touch your sex,
feel it swell and moisten.
Fondle it the way you like,
with smelly hands for thanks.

Mute you. Even here at the end,
only days or maybe months left,
you grunt, only. At best.
And me? Still jumping at your least twinge.

A marriage of equals?
Excuse my thick hide,
but I don’t think so.
A forced joining rather.

A bridge of improbable engineering
across the godless chasm,
linking two unlikely worlds,
purply rich in their incompatibility.

I and thou? Newly wed, duly wed?
No. I bow instead to our lonely
dream master, she of the endless
re-writes. Boy! Boy!

END

Graphic: Pronoxites Copyright © 2001Kai Sonderling.

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