Dark Matter

I came across a black cat
   one night with a white
bib hunched on the umbral
   asphalt underneath a
   ghostly Ford.
First I thought: a witch’s familiar
   has come to watch me;
then: Schrödinger’s thought
   experiment has leaped
     into reality;
finally I settled into an
   aesthetic disposition.
See: the cat
   resting on its four paws,
the truck
   at rest on its wheels,
   and I,
   arresting my pedestrian
argument with gravity
   long enough to sink into the scene.
The stars—but they’re hidden
     by the stratus above me.
The rest of the universe might
     as well be dark matter
   for what I can see of it.
Did I mention
   my neighbor’s dog?
I had been walking him  until the cat.
I bring him up now
   to explain what pulled
me away from the cat.
       In one theory,
dark matter is the pull
   of a parallel universe
on our own.
   For me it was a dog
   on a leash.
Where the cat
   went after that,
   Heisenberg only knows.
I returned to my habitual frame
   of reference to drink
a warm cup of tea and
   let the Brownian motion
     caress my lips.


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