Robert Fanning Man In A Galaxy

Corpse snug around his neck, Man enters
the lobby of his favorite diner, but still Corpse's
dangling legs swing out and bonk a glass

bubble gum dispenser, toppling it over.
Goddamn it, Cage, you dumb dead fuck,
Man hisses, as a Big Bang rainbow spills

across the tiles. Corpse crushing him
like a lead scarf, Man imagines himself a child
lost in this shattered universe of treats, the gumballs

a shiny, clustered nebulae. What a beautiful deluge
this moment might be—but an old sorrow wells up fast,
a dark river rising, filling the rusty canal of his heart.

As Man wobbles to his knees to clean his mess,
Corpse's hand drags across this galaxy: his stiff fingers
sweeping between each sweet planet, each glinting globe.


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