Spinning

I think I'm far too comfortable
Sitting in this office chair,
Spinning occasionally
When nothing demands my attention.
Living on a setup of wheels
Ballbearings and pneumatics.

I can look up at my ceiling
A few feet above my head
A stucco ceiling
And imagine the girl who lives
Within a few feet of me,
I've never met her.

I'm not sure I will.

She lives above me
In an apartment with ceilings
Quite a few feet higher than mine
I'm sure.

She can spin as her music plays
At a rather polite volume, I must say.
She can twirl, and I'd wager
She probably looks great as she dances
But when she turns her head upwards
Maybe we're spinning in unison.

I'm sure its probably just me,
Elsewise my story sense is taking over
Because no one else thinks about this shit
Really, I'm sure,
But maybe
Maybe we're both pondering the stars
As we spin
And they spin
On a world that spins
Around a star that spins
Several hundred kilometers
Per second faster
Than either of our minds can fathom.

Maybe we'll ponder
The speed we're moving
As we whip around that
Angry inch of heat in the sky
That is so large
That it juggernaughts your imagination
Simply at the attempt to concieve of it.

So you can understand why
I don't even want to risk
Imagining the velocity
Our solar system is moving
As it sails around the galaxy.

You know,
Unless she is fantastically nerdy
I doubt she knows this
But I do,
Reality is expanding.

Space itself, is expanding
Always has been,
The space between everything
Is getting larger
Bit by bit
And its happening everywhere

The implication is
loneliness.
An empty sky
So large with
Spaces so large
That light will never bounce
And tell stories.

So maybe I should introduce myself,
While I can
Get to know her
While I can
But I probably won't.