I am a flat, graphite sketch
on a interdimensional being’s
drafting table.
I look to my right and left
and the being is shouting
at me about depth.
Depth? I ask. Like, what
in the hell is that? Then I
skip away feeling heavy.
I know the being is there,
but I can’t see it/him/her.
The being is blue-silver.
I pray to the being every
night, even though it/him/her
recently erased some of my friends.
I’m not super scared of getting
erased – mostly because, what
does that feel like, ya know?
My world is screens and planes.
The being’s world is cubes and shadows.
Maybe I wanna see stuff like that.
“Everyone gets erased at some point,”
the other 2Ds tell me. I wonder sometimes
about the thickness of this page.
If I am a drawing, is there a drawer?
Woah! Creation ideas abound in two
directions!
I am a bunch of curvy
and straight lines. The being is
fractal-crystal-galaxy-turbulence.
Maybe I will never understand
the ways of the being. Maybe
I’m too thin to take all that in.