In the Company of Rabbits

When I opened my brain
with a black can opener
I borrowed from the dead,
I figured things would go
a certain way: I would see
the tendrils that connect one
awful thought to another,

but now I found myself giving
a speech to an audience of
rabbits (some robotic, some
organic, and some hybrid)
on the myth that eating carrots
will improve one’s eyesight,

a theory peddled by my 20/20
grandmother to her dim-visioned
grandson who would grow up
to be a man who borrows a can-
opener, peers inside his brain, and
finds solace in the company of rabbits.