by Joe Gallagher
When Galactic Man woke up existing he saw trillions of stars in the local filament
strung on dark matter across the frozen void and also a Tex-Mex restaurant
in Frederick, Maryland, called Café Bueno. Switching scopes to infrared
he discovered the Burrito Azteca in Guajillo sauce so long-simmered
it was flashing like a pulsar. So Galactic Man walked from the Big Bang to here
in three long steps, then squeezed every atom into this booth across from me
and ordered a watermelon Jarritos. The whole universe started
about two minutes ago, he assures me and the waitress, because we needed cheese—
As queso floods his rice and beans we debate the habanero salsa
Is it a 9 or a 10? My fajitas come looking fresh from the bright warm forge
where somebody made love from nothing. I barely held it together—
I stared at my plate but couldn’t eat for what felt like forever
I can’t believe how lonely I was these years I drank, right up to the end
It was only a moment to me, Galactic Man replies, then becomes again
several old friends sitting alongside me, laughing
Joe Gallagher was born and raised in Orlando, FL. He now lives in Frederick, MD, where he runs an independent press and media company called Rainbow Skull. From 2007-2008 he was the Poetry Editor of Redivider; he’s delighted to return sixteen years later as a contributor. His poetry and short fiction have appeared in Okay Donkey, Carolina Quarterly, DIAGRAM, and Corium. He has a wife who writes novels, two small children, and one large dog. Find all his links at giantglowingrainbowskull.com.