Granola

How worried are you about a continuous notion of “I”
and whether the you who did whatever thing ten years ago is
the same you today, and what this has to do with character building
or absolution or how people in different geographical locations imagine
you when you come to mind for them, if you do, given what you may
have done ten years ago?  Do you think about this often?  Sometimes?
Rarely or never?  Do you think things when you’re pouring granola
onto your yogurt like, “What if it’s all a lucid dream, and if it is, what do
I choose next?  Why did I choose the granola with the vanilla if that
wasn’t the granola I wanted?  Why didn’t I lucid dream someone 
coming to restock the kind of granola I did want?”  The granola, then, 
proves it isn’t exactly that kind of lucid dream.  It’s a different kind, 
where you might end up trying a different kind of granola or moving 
back  to the Midwest or adopting a tiny animal that comes out from 
under a car  at the laundromat and naming it Andy Garcia, and having 
it narrow its green  and crazy eyes at you in love and partial devotion 
for the next fourteen years  before it leaves this body, changes form, 
becomes some next  thing you don’t even know about, 
that you can’t and don’t even want to control.