Selfishness (Published in past edition)
I liked you in the same way that I don’t like anyone I’ve ever met
because I’m seventeen and I hate everything. I don’t believe in love,
don’t believe in eyes being windows to the soul and melting
midblink just to coalesce like god-sanctioned raindrops.
I don’t believe in anything because it’s stupid.
The world is tiny and life is too short to be coalescing
With anyone, anything but myself and my assorted compulsive lies.
I couldn’t believe in going anywhere when I die
but the thing is energy can neither be created nor destroyed
and I could take a multimeter right now
and measure an electric current across my fingers
and where will that go when my heart stops beating?
I refuse to believe that god has a lease
on all the electricity in the universe
because it belongs to physics and I haven’t
found any god in physics, just men sheathed in stardust.
I didn’t pray when you died because I don’t believe
and I didn’t cry because you weren’t mine
but I thought about you in my selfishness
and maybe my synapses firing weakly in oblivion
met your electricity somewhere by the Crab nebula
and the photons of that spark meant something to someone
that I can’t explain because I’m still seventeen,
stuck between hating everything and missing people I never even knew.