Poem 20150809

it isn’t as if
the future
–any of the potential futures–
depended on where
i placed the comma
or broke

the line

no wormhole opened up
when i changed a word
no future me or alternate reality me
stepped out
buffed up beyond belief
wearing an eyepatch
with a thin scar running
under it
from forehead to chin

to warn me
–not that metaphor
or
–why not a traditional meter

like i would have listened

i don’t owe them shit

let the future worlds
and alternate worlds
take their chances with my words

i take my chances with them
every time i type