multiplying zero

the mind is like a forest and a gas pump at the same time

you can be standing by the stove,
so far away in time and space,
last year
in california
on the phone
with an imagined voice

and before you know it
you are eating something

your mind is in the subway,
somewhere dark,
underground,
it traveled
at light speed

you didn't even know you were gone,
dreaming while "awake",
lost in thought,
but you can't even say where

you just feel the emotions and know it must
have shown you another world,
a fantasy,
where what is, isn't
and what isn't, should be

there is an uncomfortable knowing
that you left the baby out in her car seat,
but you can't quite put your finger on it

there's just something wrong with you,
and now that is wrong, too,
and like a layer cake
the mind pours forth
to jump on you
and deeper and deeper and deeper
is the original fantasy submerged

til
even a minor
couldn't find it
if he went in for surgery

cuz how do you actually find
and prove
what isn't there
in the first place?

and that's how the mind is like
a forest and a gas pump,
dark and prolific,
the unending multiplication
of what is not there