Fiction   Essays   Poetry  The Ten On Baseball Chapbooks In Memory

Eric Obame


There is no air up there
String theorists say there are eleven dimensions
And possibly an infinite number of universes
Some could be parallel to ours
Like celebrity look-a-likes
Similar at first glance, but odd on closer inspection
I imagine different versions of me, or maybe I don't exist in them
The math works, if you can follow it
11 dimensions -- an infinity of universes
And none of it has anything to do with me

There is no air up there
Blood boils from the lack of gravity
As I live, Earth rotates as fast as a jet flies
But I cannot feel it
Our sister planets spin around the sun without our push in their own tracks
There are more than a hundred billion stars -- perhaps 500 billion
In our neighborhood, the Milky Way
And our house with its eight additions
And those last weird little add-ons is nothing special
Other homes in our neighborhood have additions too
More than 100 billion stars on our corner
At least 100 billion galaxies occupy our nation universe
A 1 with many zeroes behind it is the number of possible planets
And none of them have anything to do with me

I am made of the Earth
And the Earth is made of the stars
And the stars are made of other stars
Perhaps from matter born in other dimensions
It has been said that black holes are tunnels to other universes
And none of that has anything to do with me
I am human
There is no air up there for me to breathe
The universe is not for my use

Emergency Room

I would rather be lying on a bed of broken glass
My head resting on a pillow of rusted nails
Eyes wide open
I see nothing
I scream
No sound
I am falling, floating, going up and away, moving sideways, standing still
I don't know
No point of reference
No time
Just blackness all around me
It engulfs me
Blinds me
Everything is black
There is nothing
No light
Nothing solid
Just black
I am trapped in a fucking color

©2007 by Eric Obame

Eric Obame was born in Africa and raised in Europe for a good part of his childhood. His family came here when he was nine, and he has lived here ever since. He started writing poems in college, but the writing bug bit him after graduation. He received his Master's at Towson University in Maryland, where he majored in film. He has written three scripts, The World After, Seven Souls, and Boy Apocalypse, and is now working on Rise Icarus. Although he loves movies, he is also fond of poetry. His poems have been published in various journals, magazines, and on the Internet.

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