10 sad sad suns
lined up in punctuation marks,
dark over the littered ruin
of some dead millionaire's mansion,
where we sat and drank Napa wine,
making up our minds.
Dying stars inside and out,
the universe all jumbled up
in times of goodbye.
"Well...this, then, that...
remember? You were there, too!"
As the past hangs on your back
the way they taped "Kick me" signs
on the awkaward kids in junior high.
"Yes, but, but, but...maybe you're right."
It's me / It's her. A fight not worth winning.
We hug like empty suitcases,
as ghosts are heard weeping.
She leaves. The world
once again depopulates.
This place returns to rabbits,
who marvel anew
at beings of 38.5 trillion cells,
40 trillion bacteria,
who can't live alone, and
can't give themselves away.
One bunny, ears tall as antennas,
Jersey accent, smarts off,
"Complicated, ain't it!"
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