Sim

Sim

Once he longed for the sim, 

he became more opaque 

as though light in its points 

could not penetrate his sub

stance, what substance there 

was since the word had ceased 

to have any meaning for him. 

He tried to convince himself 

          he wasn't disappearing: 

"I'm as much as there

ever was." 

          He partitioned 

his being into here and there 

as though he were grocery 

shopping at a store he was 

forever unfamiliar, the aisles 

turning this way and that way 

until he couldn't find canned 

peaches, bottled apple juice, 

clams, chips: where had he 

gone? What would others say 

now that even he had lost his 

voice with its old timbre? Its 

old tempo? Once he longed 

          for the sim, he began.

 

[persona]