where would i want to be in a hundred years

i think maybe at one of Papa’s parties

in Cuba perhaps with palm trees swinging in the wind

leading a revolutionary life meaning just being me

maybe setting the palm tree tops on fire with a million fireflies

how far would i be out into the timeline that strings us on forever

i’d imagine that the Pi would taste like minty limes and the Alpha would feel like velvet

the Omega would be the scent of gunpowder apocalyptic ripples left shivering to the breeze

eternally in the darkness of the light

poking through the magma of the times

my dark soul shaped like cracks and bothersome little rocks

little carbon teeth and my lips would be a couple of twigs

swooped up by momma crows to weave the nest for fuzzy babies

that will grow up and flyaway my twiggy ashes

i will not sink but float out into the ether above those Cuban skies

where i then will witness the incandescent fireflies flitting atop the palm trees

and like ash i too will inevitably float to join neutrinos helium and dust