The worst part of it is remembering. That you once fell

into a lake while looking for my iguana. Another time, we split
the earth open. Once, I forgot who I was and unraveled

my mind all over Janet’s living room, tore all the wallpaper
off her code. But you kissed it together again.

Heaven is a one-way street with no stoplights and hell
is other people. A stack of unread magazines. A thought

experiment with no answers. You saw the time
knife, predicted the surgery. We’ve been through this

800 times. Sometimes, we were just friends. But if we found
each other in every reboot, why am I afraid now,

the one time I’ve graduated from lab rat to scientist?
You couldn’t lie to save a life, but I promise

I’m worth it. I’m a legit snack. I’m a forking
delight. Look at what you’ve made me, sunbaked

Arizona trashbag: a good person. You’ve cured me hard.
I’ve laughed and feared so much, it’s fixed

my coulrophobia. Here’s my agony in the garden
lawn: I didn’t ask to be the key to salvation.

I’d rather break into heaven than waltz right through
without you. I’d elope to purgatory, with all its lukewarm

beers and live covers. So please let this king’s cup
pass me by. I want to have my moral yogurt

and eat it too. I want to watch this movie with you forever.
I wish I could be selfish a little longer. But sure, I can play

the messiah. I can be a martyr: For you, I’d take
the trolley. I’d take the supermarket stampede

of a thousand shopping carts. I’d take the imperative.
So don’t worry about me. Hurry into the waiting

room. I’ll be dandy. I’ll paint the neighborhood
white, like a real good lie. Like my first Christmas

without coal. I have an archangel and a compass now.
I’ve been through hell and back. I’ll see you

on the other side. Everything will be fine.