I was about
to open that door
when I got the phone call.
I don’t remember anything before that
and I’ve never asked for help since.
My head started to tic
like a jumping bean,
like a glitchy video,
like a gull-durned dirty bomb ’bout to go.
I thought first to protect the kids.
The kids said, “We don’t share.”
I said, “Are you invincible?”
The kids said, “Bro, go away and let us play.”
Then I took to the elders.
I talked with them of luck and free will.
They fed me sweet breads iced with cinnamon and fate.
“These are brief times, mostly happy, swirling in mystery…”
Afterwards, I could say goodbye without feeling my everything churning and grinding unto itself and onto the floor and out of the door and into the street to await a thing without attention or intention.
I imagine this story continues long after we go home for the night.