Book you’ll never read

  We lived and breathed fantasy.

  You were a novel character

  come to life, just as cocky,

  sharing the same flaws, same

  eyes. Same flair for the dramatic,

  villian-become-hero. And then

  we’re face to face at some dance

  and the pen in my hand can’t help

  but write frantically, penning

  the story before we enact the scenes,

  like Hollywood lovers putting on a show.

  I can balance director with actor.

  And the stories we would tell…

  we put Swift to shame. Long distance

  only made the dreams wider, wilder,

  until they filled the expanse of sky,

  hung bright like stars, heavy

  as storm clouds. Sending messages

  over the phone like Romeo throwing rocks

  at Juliet. Too bad in person we were never more

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  than fashionable strangers.

  But this is a book you’ll never read,

  a book I’ll never write.

  Galaxies away

  My girlfriend lived

  three galaxies down,

  between a sun and a field of black holes.

  While other lovers charted

  great heists to borrow the car—

  steal away to the soda shop

  —I was transported to vistas as vast

  as Middle-earth, skies as black

  and young as space. Let’s get married

  on the back of a spaceship

  skimming the clouds like cream,

  gently plowing the snow of the sky.

  None of the girls I knew

  had dreams like me,

  had enough vision to see

  beyond the past and lingering

  present—what do you want to do

  on Earth? I could have grown

  into a permanent fixture in the yard,

  tangled in vines and uncertainty, waiting

  for any other voice to respond.

  But my girlfriend talks ideas

  like sailors talk ocean

  and ocean talks waves,

  crashing over me. Together

  we’ll remove the mask,

  face the human condition and give it

  wings. A world that doesn’t worry

  about something trivial as hunger.