On Our Way to Somewhere

by
Darrell Epp

you can’t get there from here. i mean,

by the time you cross the finish line

you’re someone else. science has

proven this. some die from the

exhaustion of becoming. never

mind being. never mind sleeping.

there’s no redemption without some

suffering but i’m impatient, i fast

forward through the opening credits,

the commercials. so many new toys

it’s hard to keep track.  there’s a sub-

molecular shiver we share with the

maples and even the rocks. are the

gaps between the stars meant to be

intimidating or inspiring? are we

acid or base? what time is it? so

what? i stood and watched as stan’s

diner became a vacant lot, a 7-11,

another vacant lot, and the future

site of a glass condo tower. by then

the sun had set, metallic particulates

smudged out the stars and i needed

some help with my jigsaw puzzle.

start at the edges, work your way in.

if i had a big hammer i could force

everything into place. carrie come

back with my missing puzzle piece

and i’ll forgive the phone bill, the

cable bill and the mint condition

comic books you used as coasters.