by Tom Saer
‘Can you give me a cautious “yes”?’
floats up to me from the past,
one of my first auditions.
Time is a flat circle for me for
five small portal minutes.
Out of my pint glass body, staring at the stage, the wormhole made when I think about what things look like from the from the
I bridge the past into my repeating head, I look at five years old, fifteen years old,
the eyes of an acted Catherine
The biggest things I’d ever seen
I saw them yawning gaping asking
in the table wood,
The brownest things I’d ever seen.
What have you done to me?
Am I Eddie?
Off the asteroid conveyor belt at last
in my head forever