Holo Boundaries

　　Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth

　　We`ve spent hundreds of hours and

　　devoured hundreds of thousands

　　of

　　words building the future, cars that hover and blur,

　　screens that flicker behind our eyes and

　　over our heads. Streaks of

　　starships

　　 overhead, leaving behind a trail of ink and drawn

　　paper. We`ve met the aliens so

　　many times, conquered more earth

　　than the moon, passed the solemn face of Pluto and her

　　three

　　 or four inconsequential cousins—at least I`ve

　　enjoyed

　　 the stories. The

　　scopes have focused on the miasma of the outer rims

　　 of space, snapped The author`s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

　　shots like pop rocks magnified and consumed. But now I`m

　　slung

　　 out here in the spin of

　　 furious things, a weekend holiday in the

　　sun`s breakfast room, gazing out at the

　　universe. A universe that

　　breathes in when I do, relieves

　　 stress by shifting the

　　planets slowly

　　 around to the music of their ballet spheres. The owner

　　handed down

　　 a map when I

　　arrived, jabbed at the

　　 keys in the stars with his worn finger, regal

　　 twin to

　　the finger outstretched

　　toward

　　Adam in Michelangelo`s momentary sketch, humanity`s

　　 humble creation.

　　Glancing down, I shudder and grin

　　 at the name carefully scrawled across the map—

　　my

　　 own. I must have

　　 been here before. God

　　only nods and continues to point—

　　at the

　　supernovas cobbling together new stars, at the birth

　　of the pillars of creation crawling

　　out of the youngest nebula, magnetic

　　clouds that cling to

　　my imagination. Keep breathing, in and out, up and down,

　　 let the

　　universe guide your lungs and traveling mind. If you get down

　　 on your

　　knees and squint, you`ll recognize the

　　stitches

　　 binding the universe together—the same fabric makes

　　up me

　　 .