comics page

The fact is
every drawing is a separate
thinking, unique individual
frozen in a moment, in a frame

next to someone else dressed much the same,
looking pretty-much on-model for the character
they're both supposed to be - one frame
before, one frame along some adventure
neither really sees, one that they
will never leave.

Each fully lives
and fully stays in one slice of
experience.

Each knows the other selves
exist, within that row upon the page
but they're not selves, and they don't know
what all the others think of this.

Above, below

are other things but dimly glimpsed,
such goings-on imaginable, but probably
wrong. A different creator there,

at work - just once, and now
moved on.

Such tiny lives, but fully-lived
one moment never to advance, but knowing
someone much like us will live

to have their frozen chance
to see what later thing may be - but never know
this moment, mine. With me.

This is how physics works. Alas the gods
are lazy, hackneyed, formulaic
jerks

or maybe this
right here
is just the best that they can do?
An image of a life gone stop,
with just enough suggestion of

some way to continue, but no. Or

yes.
We can't.
We'll live and die this frame.
Since we are here, let's fill it up

We can't be sure it's all a game.