Remember Me Diviniley a Forest

Dragging his parachute across the full expanse of the Milky Way in all its multifold dimensionalizing. He can’t bear to cross the cosmic street– if only he had landed on the down side rather than the up. Sometimes it’s just the act of remembering not to remember a fire or an electrical outlet or a wind storm from inside a cave or even the wormies burrowing squirmies through every point of fallow. But again with the mop and nobody’s sure why, all the dorky Neanderthals with their faces hanging out scratching their heads honestly trying to form the best alphabet they can, until the General Master Janitor bursts on the scene yukking it up with an old buddy, “that’s when I sure as hell learned that as well as looking both ways before crossing the street you damn well better look up as too...”
The sound fades into space dust across your chin now looking over that wretched parachute, your forehead now perspiring terribly somehow (you still have no goddam clue how you’re breathing in space– maybe you’re not, maybe you died aeons ago) as you try to swat away memories that buzz like flies. And how is it that space is so vivid, like that creeping curling plume of purple cloud stuff (if only you had taken an active interest in science with its white coats and beakers, if only you had taken an active interest in anything) and that chrome toaster over there yes that’s it! Just perched lonesome on the stump of what must have been a huge tree, at the center of a clearing of brush and Sequoias: you don’t even seem to walk there but drift only distantly of your own volition. When you get there then poppity out popping the yes what you need pop tarts, the most delicious pop tarts you’ve ever had!