By your own admission, we were
synonymous with the tide, already
and we had no sympathy for the shore
or the crabs that found each other
there in the sands, and died at midnight.
* * *
Best case scenario: time passes
over us like death, quickly and silently
in the middle of the night, watched
only by the gods and their shadows,
and their long list of likes and dislikes.
* * *
“I wish things could be different”
but the birch still grow too tightly to run
quickly through and the “many worlds”
theory keeps me alive in this one because
there’s solace in knowing somewhere, I jumped.