in another universe we’re driving around in the plymouth, 

sitting in our usual seats at arts cafe,

spending our sundays close. 


waking you up with coffee at bonks cabin,

my hand on your thigh,

bare feet on the porch.


maybe I’m forgiving you again over our usual at Giorgio’s, 

keeping your secrets from my friends,

asking if your friends would think of you different,

believing change is coming after a trip out of town.


maybe the glass you threw at the wall hits me instead. 

maybe it’s the same in every universe. 

and every universe, I’m glad I’m out. 

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