The world is so complex and vast, how can one thing matter?
How does anger, revenge, or love cohere?
When so much is intricately elsewhere
and so little is actually here?
Remember how the big evaporated?
Remember our running joke in a Scottish
accent? “It’s all crrrap?”
What’s wildly exciting? Not our plans.
A strange dream during a nap.
Don’t get your hopes up. Because death.
By asserting this, my small poem still has no chance
against the vastness where Brahms
in my living room sings under the stars.