Folding Chairs

I’m sitting in the growing dark of an unfamiliar small town watching the people, who all seem like people I should know and probably, in another life, in another universe, do know. The dinner party conversation earlier was about the structure and history of the universe, the nature of the Big Bang. The fireworks are about to start. The fog is rolling in. I’ve put on a sweater to ward off the chill. In a few minutes a lost child will appear by my chair weeping and another universe will splinter into existence.

Jefferson
scratches out
an inapt phrase–
something faster
than the speed of light