Now I Know That the Time I Lost Was a Gift to the Devils of Forever

The womb was a cannon, lit by the paternal prick of a Seattle man with a subpar sperm count—though otherwise hardy genes. And when his phalic flame had consumed the embryonic fuse of my mother’s mortar, so was discharged a new creation, baby J, along with my destiny, which discovered the sky in a sudden upward heave-ho, a burst, whereupon it sprawled and sprayed then stalled and spelled letters that stayed, in a clearing amidst the cottony grove of a nimbulous supra-land. See you in 2012! it said. Since the day of my birth and this promise, I have been standing here on my own fly ball version of planet Earth, slouched slightly as I always am, hands pocket-bound as they always are, eyes allergic to the sun and so cast down to the ground forever. It’s been twenty-four years of beat breath after breath. Everything is still up in the air, though destined to descend like everything. Meanwhile, I’ve just been waiting here, beneath all these different rotating suns, observing as fate’s shadows grow larger.