Cartoon Guns
My Sophist self hardly entertains the idea of air
and space is too immense, to damn big to occupy.
I project myself into the world, meet a friend
for coffee, pass by a parking meter, perplexed.
This is not enough to make me real.
My cartoon self moves about in the world
looking for a story line, intrigue, danger,
guns, sophisticated high tech guns.
I cock them all at once and fire,
the sound is immense in frame,
filling up space, finally,
with something colorful,
real, but only in this world of cartoons
searching for the next line, a scene, a full frame,
sophisticated meaning with cartoon guns.
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