If We Can Put Fritos On A Pizza, Surely I Can Win Your Heart

by Zachary Kocanda

Two weeks ago, you say you ordered a pizza from the future due to daylight savings time. You say, “Time travel is real, Zach.” You hold up your phone, the app open, and I thank you for reminding me of daylight saving time, even if you say savings with an –s when most editors prefer daylight saving time.

I think of time travel in the movie Primer, and how I don’t understand the movie, even after watching it twice, but I think of how you and I are like the characters in that movie in that you like time travel and I like being with you for seventy-seven minutes.

Today, I wake up warm, Frito-covered, and about to be eaten, a pizza in a box. Maybe I’ve been reincarnated, thinking of the unopened Bhagavad Gita in my backpack, your sacrilegious Ganesha iPhone case, our incense burning as a fuck you to the lease agreement.

Maybe I’m back in time, the pizza you ordered in the future, that became the past that became the present. I don’t know when I am, but I want to be useful to you. I want this poem to be useful to you, so if you can’t eat me, I strongly recommend the Frito’s pizza from Papa John’s.

Even if now you can only order it from the present.

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