Somewhere,
I am laughing right now.

Not eventually.
Not after I learn a lesson.
Not once the character arc resolves.

There is
a person with whom
an unreasonable amount of fun
is happening.

The evidence feels overwhelming.

I keep encountering things
to share with someone.

A joke.
A strange headline.

A softball game
that becomes a story
before it’s over.

And yet,
I am here.

Lying in bed next to my dog
writing poems about alternate timelines.

Quantum physicists propose
many worlds.

A branching universe
containing every possible outcome.

Which means there is likely
another version of me
currently sitting on
top of a piano

kissing,

or walking through a park
or getting ice cream

with the person
I keep reaching for
in the middle of the night.

I am happy for her.

But I would also like
to know where the hidden hatch is.

I have been remarkably patient
with this timeline.

Completed the assigned grief.
Demonstrated growth.
Learned the lessons.

Meanwhile,
somewhere in the multiverse,

two idiots are laughing so hard
they miss a train.

They stay for one more drink.
They accidentally create
a favorite memory.

I would like access
to that branch.

Or at minimum,
an update.

I continue collecting stories
for someone

who has not shown up yet.
This feels less like hope

and more like

being a puppy
who doesn’t understand

when her person
is coming home.