When I say
What a beautiful sunrise or
This coffee is amazing, or when
I marvel at the striations
in the bedrock along I-75
or the webs of branches
over our heads at McConnell Springs,
or I say Let’s have pizza tonight
or Let’s read in silence or Let’s do
our taxes or Let’s go to the store
and crash carts into cracker displays,
what I mean is
I have dived head-first into you
and am floating in the fluorescent
electric endless fire you call your heart,
and if you asked me to leave I would,
but I would crumble into a line
of ash shaped like my signature because
there is no sunrise, no pizza, no bedrock
or branches or books that survive
without your breath, and what I would
very much rather do is disintegrate
in here, to dissolve into your neurons,
to defy all physics and open my chest
and welcome you to do the same.