John Watson, from ‘Occam’s Aftershave’
In a menthol vapour cloud he sallies out
Into a world which is oddly replete
And pleated with entities neatly multiplied.
Spruced and shiny and smelling of spruce
With the breeze fiercely fanning his face
His five-o’clock shadow is still hours away.
Like alpha and beta and gamma rays
Diverging in a cloud chamber, he goes
All at one time for one thing after another.
And it is no time at all
Before he finds himself cheek and jowl
With different causes of the same event,
Until in the blink of an eye the skies
Overlap like playing cards. Then he sees
Parallel universes on a collision course.