He sits himself down
on the edge of the universe
—can of Coke in one hand
an anthology of old Garfield comics
in the other—
and just thinks for a bit.

holiday holiday holiday holi
day I can’t

Time just flies and
flies and flies and

The can opens with a snap
and hisses at the atmosphere.
There isn’t enough sky
for all the people
no matter what they say.

He remembers when he first fell in love.
He looks down from the edge of the universe
past galaxy after galaxy until he finds his own
home planet home continent home country hometown
and he imagines plummeting there from his stoop.
It was kind of like that.

He takes a sip and turns the page.
Garfield is sleeping. Jon has nothing new to say.

Published by dreysleeps

I art and eat and draw and sleep and cry and rhyme. I consume too much pizza and—by all rights—should be dead, but I haven't gotten around to it. Procrastination saved my life.

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