there is no such thing as
(everything is dazzling
fantastic and hopskippity
life is a whirl of a wind and a
s
i
g
h
of content
and roses sing their beauty and
the moon pats you on the back as you walk past
but one day there is a big red fiery IF
hiding at the bottom of your favorite coffee mug
you take it to work with you
tie it to a tree where it patiently waits
lingering in the back of your worry
leaping when you finally reappear,
you are mine –

it sleeps at the foot of your bed
wakes you with the promise of another day together
sits loyally at your feet while you pretend to eat breakfast
perches on your shoulder while you
chain smoke cigarettes
gaining your trust and need and love
until one day it slathers your world in gasoline
watches as it chars and splinters and
crumbles into blackened crusts
its work here is done)
perfection