Easter morning. The alarm is on and he is risen. I hear the alarm as one with the ringing in my ears. It's not the same. Nothing is the same. I recall easter morning in Decatur, a basket of eggs, gleaning the green back yard, sitting on the back stoop, holding my sister on my lap. Then I fell out of bed and broke my head. Present, presently, I was present in the future then. I didn't know it. I never thought of the future then I only thought of the moment like a young dog. I only think of the future as a present now, in a basket like the past. I think of a boy asking why but I don't think the boy is me, I never asked why out loud I only asked why inside. I was like an egg, terrified of cracking.