The Theory of Relativity

Buddy Pohlman

 

My nihilistic-manic/depressive-friend, the one that brought

punk and counter-culture to cows and corn, now has dependents, files taxes, works at Pac-Sun.

 

Nothing is unrelative.

 

My aunt is stabbed by her progeny, the same genes awaiting me (perhaps).

 

who knows.

Nothing is ever Certain.

 

Forward the dragoon, through the abyss, treading water, keeping up, moving along. The image of my Psyche as an encapsulated ticking time bomb ebbs and flows along the surface of a world that was not built for me.

 

Nothing stops the irresolute march of time

 

Get Normal or Get Drunk

 

I’ll take the drink every time.

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790