Strung out, stretched and pulled across
his sky
over billowed by the encumbrance of
choice.
He’d thought himself in, out and around
the box,
trawled the cosmos for
a solution, a loophole, a way.
Unfortunately, it’s a wormhole ride away
–
seems even black hole couldn’t bring
them two together.
Quite simply, it’s one or the other
the girl or the globe.
How could love and travel
be so painfully polar
and mutually exclusive?
Once one is ditched, discarded, dumped
the path should be clear
yet denial and hope cling
to a fool hardy notion of their
simultaneous possibility.
All one needs is a working knowledge
of parallel universes
