Age is a relative thing, not an aunt or uncle thing, no, more like an Einstein thing, like a black hole waiting to swallow you up and never gonna spit you out kind of thing. Just what you would expect from a Ferris wheel that won’t stop spinning—the gravity of the situation, not to be underestimated. What started as a quarter’s worth of spun sugar now clings to my face in nebulous patches of gray whiskers. Couple that with the fact that my attraction to carnival rides grows weaker by the day, and there you have it; the Universe keeps expanding, and I can’t seem to find the time or the energy to ponder it.
sliding beads
on his abacus—
Newton
discovers a wormhole
in his apple
First published in cattails