I swear there was a person here
A minute ago.
He was the campfire comic
Before the action scene,
The spokesman for copper, the astro-botanist,
Entrepreneur of the toxin-free ...
He switched guises like lights in a prism,
Refracting all.
To be the many he must be the one who
Must be the many.
"But how could I be the one
Without being all?"
He called, as he sensed
His identity slip
Under the deserted thoroughfare
Full of balloons
That might have once been people,
If he could remember.
Another person was only
A color
Pulled away from the prism.
How could he feel separation
When the colors merged each time
They agreed?
Suddenly, the dimensions become
Undone.
His voice is as if on the top
Of a mountain.
The friends who'd seemed to abandon him
Listen
In the distant hollows
Of his old mind.
