4487. I WAS STANDING

I WAS STANDING

I was standing amidst water and dreck, watching to see
what floated by - paragons of virtue, not; girls with
their guys, trudging towards 13th, Webster Hall was
calling. The thin sky, leering back at fifteen thousand
people, seemed to have something on its mind.
-
I had to decide, if the world were to end right now, would
I be happy? Would any form of sadness count? And then
how, and why? Everything would be, in a way, indivisible,
or divisible by nothing, or indivisible by anything.
It seemed an endless and stupidly mathematical quest,
one that would have a symbol, a formula, some Kurt Godel
manipulation. As it was, really, all this gauze was but
reality's own lame cloak, and I was overdressed for that.
-
How can someone say what's on their mind? A million
soda-pop ways of trying, and what we're left with is
but the prize-legend underneath the bottle cap, in
the place we never really see at all.