when I turn my head and look at things
sideways
Consider the edge of light and dark
mathmatically an asymptote approaching
infinity vis a vis the starlight
I see on a clear night, so real and clearly now,
is the past, actually, someday when it crossed
milions of light years,
to be in my telescope,
The closest I can be to now,
is a memory when I percept it.
On a daylight, I think might,
my real no matter how fast or hard I try to
be in it,
is a past forever.