It seems possible, likely even,
that I’ve been wrong about everything,
or most things, for the past week.
Awe has been an awesome ma,
after all, and on second thought,
becoming a morning person
might prove achievable in ways
that becoming a sunrise might not.
I may have spoken too soon
when I said, with unearned confidence,
that the boy who gives away chocolate
samples sits in the dark, alone with
his thoughts of the girl who sells movie tickets
licking chocolate off her fingers,
that when he saw her it felt 
like seeing a sunset through a hospital window,
and now my sources tell me that
the well-meaning asshole who bent
to pick up the snow-covered branch
was neither an asshole nor particularly
well-meaning, so here are some rocks
for you to throw at me for all I got wrong.
No? Not even if I remind you how
last week I said I loved your poem,
that its sheen made me hate my own?