The Most Up to Date Explanation of the Universe’s Absence of Meaning
Peter Shippy
They purchase a red Volvo and ride to the shore, listening
to an agreeable voice-over shade the highlights of the sea
Coming to terms is never a matter of mere attendance
They stop at a roadside market and purchase frozen custard
The structure of a highway is a veneration of the neural net
which itself maintains an exigent relationship with galaxies
They let a room in the much-loved inn, whose fawn lily
wallpaper is not stuck to amorphous narratives, but to syntax
Can anyone fly this contraption says a voice off the flat-screen
He wakes, still inside her, still asleep, eminently self-reflexive
Morning sunlight slathers their sheets like white chocolate
Their car phones to advise on sailboat sales and resonant larking
Independently, they both worry that the other one will oscillate
that bridges will fall and dangerous distances will contract
They sell their red Volvo and walk to the shore, listening
to a plucky lifeguard blot out the sighs of the afternoon sea
Peter Shippy
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