Under the Pine Trees

I am here.
here, in such-and-such a place of the earth,
in such-and-such time of sun and moon,
in such-and-such a body.

Body. Useless bag of flesh.
Fleshbag tupperware,
lurking in the fridge
until eaten, gone bad, or tossed out.

I am here--
defined as not being there or everywhere--
defined as the hammock under the pine trees in thought,
defined as in a cubicle in body or fleshbag.

Time. This is the time,
the time that I should be doing something
that should change my life and alter my mind.
I do nothing.

You are not here, cannot be.
The spaces between atoms don't have enough room
for you. Neither does my heart.
It rests under the pine trees.