Vivarium

The village idiot and me at a breakfast buffet.
I’ve given up all material possessions, I says.
I cannot think of anything to say, he says.
It’s daylight savings time, and we spent the night
Adjusting a glass room of computers, which fought
Us all the way. Where are the embryos? he shouts.
He grabs our server and proposes marriage and divorce.
All of my sausages were plastic, and the jam was like
Axle grease. The idiot was a hell-of-a computer
Whiz, but he could not calculate a tip.
I am the bane of my own existence, he says.
There is nothing you can call a self, I says.
You look just like him, the cashier comments as she hands
Back my ID. Yeah, right, I says, and the universe
In its entirety is in my belly. I grab a Starlight mint
And we hit the road as full as an old man’s dreams.