Using two opposable thumbs
my future unfolds
never a dull moment–
at the gym between sets,
at the cashier waiting on line,
watching the evening news,
talking to you from the other room.
I could go on and on.
I wish I had a can of spray paint,
I’d drive around the city
and splash zig-zags into infinity
invent colors never seen before,
might try my hand
at a basket of apples beneath
the freeway
where my future is a rick-rack
of diminishing returns,
a series of repeating triangles,
isosceles
if you connect the dots
me and my cellphone
strolling down the avenue
tracking how many steps
I’ve walked in one day,
how much farther I have to go.