by Joanna Penn Cooper and Todd Colby
You are probably more special than even they remember, too,
letting me breathe on your elbow for luck on my way out to fight
time you can't figure out time, so you might as well join it,
but this is all I have, the heading out, the mechanism of doubt
like Leave it to Beaver, waiting for Ward to come home, facing
the abyss, and so putting on pearls and a corsage
to vacuum the house. I will never have you all to my own,
he says through crumpled leaves the lemon sun receding
the smell of lilacs assaulting our faces like tiny elfin
slackers. I will build you something sweet and rapturous
slackers. I will build you something sweet and rapturous
like a pillow full of soft dice and peanut butter. I love
the look of surprise you get when I build you things like
that, then eat the whole thing with Nutella before you
that, then eat the whole thing with Nutella before you
get home from work. Watch the nut butters, hon,
your heart is faint, will break were the last words ever,
or at least the last words I heard before the Rapture.
You two make me happy.
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