I lack imagination,
which is a problem
when you pretend
to be a poet.
But no matter
how hard I try
I cannot imagine
myself doing it.
Yet, some scientists say
there are limitless
parallel universes
and perhaps
in one of them
one of me
tackled the beast -
if only to spite
those multiples of me
sitting in stalled trains
on parallel tracks.
How I would love
to ask that reckless me:
how did I do it?
What happened next?
Did it make
a difference?
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
First Published in The Broadkill Review
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