Another

Like an arrangement of spheres,
assembled to host a perfect grid,
usurped by the a crater formed
by the betrayal of the floor:
the blanket of a curious fellow.

It's me adding one to 20,
upsetting the equality of a scale,
the truth of 20 = 20 is removed,
as arbitration doles out
an especially confusing world.

Never a matter of ready or not,
I just am who I am: an apparent heir,
to be one less 20 is minuscule to me,
like receiving a quarterly report,
it capitalizes on one step in time over any other.