That in This Occurrence
Zero-sum, Jerry says. Binary:
zero–one, I retort.
He bets the farm: all the livestock,
the colts, the half-blind gander—
And a pyramid
to carry it in? I ask.
All these things assignable
in this certain occurrence
mean nothing
if I am right.
What can he put up: a soul
for a soul, I say,
but he can do nothing with that
in this occurrence.
Then we decimalize, we multiply:
one: point-five: point zero-zero-one:
one to infinity. In any direction
we head, we find a highway
with a revolving off-ramp:
an elevator always stopping
though never stopping
on the same floor.
In so much possibility,
how do we ever meet?
And what shall I call us
in our next occurrence?
How can I paint the “us”
in our next occurrence
with words from our last?
Our food arrives
before we can resolve the matter.
We settle for now
for the here and now,
for coffee, eggs, a slice of joy.