buttermilk in poetry

there are lights over buttermilk falls
at the outskirts of the city
in which I live

there are lights
you can see on the clear nights
around about three in the morning
over buttermilk falls
and if you stare into them long enough
you can see parallel timelines
you can see the other versions of your life
as you would have lived them
had things gone differently
I know, it’s wild
but there’s lights
and you can see everything
if you stare

and if you stare long enough
you can see
if you’d taken that other major instead
if you’d not quit that job
if you’d only moved away
if you’d only asked
that girl in the bar out first
before that other asshole
and you can see it all
if you stare long enough
at the lights over buttermilk falls
those pink laser beams
that lay out alternative scenes
put up by aliens maybe
or the devil or whatever
I don’t know
I just know they’re there

but here’s the thing
just because it’s different
doesn’t mean that it’s actually better
that’s what you have to remember
it could turn out that what you think
would have saved you
that hope you hold in your heart for your other self
the cold comfort you hold onto in your sleep
to cover up the way your indecision hurts
the lights over buttermilk falls might tell you
it would have been even worse

maybe you’d have knocked her up
and then where would you be
maybe you’d have fallen in love
and when you went out to get her a ring
got hit by a bus
right in front of the jewelery shop
there are too many factors
and there’s no such thing as fate
maybe you were really early
when you thought you were late
maybe this life you think sucks
is the one that is great
this might be the best life you could get

and then what the hell do you say
and then what in the hell do you dream on
and then what do you have to hope for
this is the best world
you can’t hope for more
then what?

so I try not to stare at the lights
over buttermilk falls
and I’ll tell you why
there’s a chance you’ll go blind