Manifest Density

by Mike Allen

Let’s play a game of chicken with the Universe.

Let’s extend our suburbs to the quasar edge.

Let’s burrow condos into every moon,

open discount stores at each new sun,

carve two-way traffic tunnels throughout spacetime,

plan cul-de-sacs of gated nebulae.

Let’s evangelize all unearthly aborigines.

(They too need Slurpee cups and no U-turns.)

Let’s fill the empty saddle with ourselves.

And if we can’t kickstart the Big Crunch with our Masses,

let’s break bacchanal through all the thinning Cosmos

to keep each other warm as the stars die.

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