Schrodinger's Cat.

I stepped into my car;

Mr  Satan in the passenger seat,

And he said, “ I shall spare this life of yours,

Shall you be willing to take me to Hell’s Kitchen.”

Sensing the casual loop I said,

“Well as you like it ,Mr Baton.”

“And just what did you call me, Mr Dible?”

“I would prefer Incrad, sugarpie.”

It seemed as if a role reversal had taken place.

An implosion was imminent,

With Dark Angels too?

The wrath was infernal, swallowing everything in its path.

My brain wasn’t dead , they said,

And I had a choice to make.

To enter a parallel universe ,

To avoid sipping poison from the cup, like my friend, the cat

That was so perfectly placed, oh the effervescence.

Like Satan studied Feng Shui.

I evaded death in surrealism.

And even Satan succumbed to his own connivance.

I can see Einstein , Podolsky, and Rosen, gleaming with pride,

Smiling with my smile.

Thanks to Erwin Schrodinger,

I can still do that for a while.