Apartment dwellers who never go outside

themselves, these allotted slots

are occupied by multi-track minds

with much better ears left over

from a world you imagine

or believe you’ve already engineered.

This happens the same way

some segues don’t last long enough

to be anything other than functional noise.

 

Electrons shiver in to fill the void,

suddenly you’re denser somewhere else.

You lurk back here, unlocked

into a continuing question:

Where else could you possibly be?

Space redefines instance as well as relative distance.

Redefining your niche, each echo

recognizes something of itself,

comes at least to this.

 

But you wonder what keeps happening

to everything left out—

the quizzical stuff that doesn’t fit,

the magic bits that can’t be jettisoned,

the cramming before the final exam.

The obvious questions & answers linger

like gold or even platinum records left over

from a world you imagine

or like to believe you’ve already heard.

 

Still, great music transitions

reinforce, mock, dread, demand or adore

more raw emotion in 6½ seconds

than anyone left holding

a chart of their own heart.

Loaded chambers suspended in time,

your best moments live on

long after you’re gone.

Right after we’ve used them to get here.