Cancer,

falling in love,

figuring It out, and finding out It really isn’t what

I thought or that It really is,

a half gallon of Turkey Hill when I’m really pissed off,

my temper, my pride, and my passport

with no more stamps,

You

crumbling, teeth yellowing and rotting to dust and when I

massaged your scalp, the way that

gave you reason (you said) and I pinched

it between thumb and first finger

delicate as it was

you disappeared finally:

August.

I know you’re okay

I said

You’re gonna be fine.

And you looked to me

covering myself in the crowd

of a house party

I reluctantly attended

wanting to believe me.

I’m still not convinced

you did.

2010

(More about my daydream sequences here.  Read ’em all here).