7TH & DEERDORFE

The withered old man across the street looks just like me. He waits for traffic and goes through the mail in his hand.  He’s got a more advanced hunch than I do, but apart from that, the hair, the glasses, even the retro coat is classic me.  Although, I guess I would be classic me if what I’m thinking were true.  What if time on this particular street corner, where 7^th meets Deerdorfe, is intersecting with itself?  The ‘future’ me intersecting with the ‘now’ me.  My thought is that if I cross 7^th at the exact same time he does, mirroring his footsteps at the same pace, time itself will either collapse or completely start over like an odometer.  Billions of years get set back to zero.  And out of the trillions upon trillions of universes out there with limitless possibilities, it could all come to a screeching halt right here on this street.

The light changes and he starts to cross, sadly oblivious to what catastrophic, cosmic tragedy is about to happen.  I mirror him step for step and close my eyes as we cross paths.  I open them as I reach the other side, expecting I don’t know what.  As I step onto the curb, I look back across the street to see the ‘future’ me lying on the sidewalk, holding his chest with mail and leaves blowing around his body.  I pull out my phone and dial 911 as I rush across to tell him it’s going to be okay.  That’s when I get hit by the bus.




-SLL