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Things I Have Thought
After you’re gone
I have thought:
About my fingers as a dune buggy race on the endless sands of your back. Or as submarines descending through the uncharted depths of your hair to your very top’s very bottom.
About the Mark Leidner line, “Love castrates ambition / and I’m so stupid I’d rather be great than happy.”
About how I am a cavity in a waffle and you’re the syrup whose sticky goodness drenches me and runneth over.
About how this relationship is either an all-inclusive resort or The Stanford Prison Experiment.
About our bodies as music, endless dream puzzles tessellating to infinity.
About your transcendent details, your soul’s serifs that separate Georgia from Comic Sans.
About the problem of “sunshower” versus “the devil is beating his wife.”
About how nothing is hotter than specificity.
About murdering your exes with how good I am to you.
About gouging out my eyes and hosing your scent onto an upright bass and trying to make it work between us.
About how we should write and produce something called Night Mare: The Horror Horse Musical.
