"I Can't Seem To Get Over How Pretty The Whole Wide World Is," A Weird Catastrophe Poem

                   I Can’t Seem To Get Over How Pretty The Whole Wide World Is

it is all I can give,
this is all I can tell you,

there will only ever be camera flashes
of interesting, beautiful things,
of feeling the way you want to feel,
of big dinners (paid with food stamps),
of remembering what it was like,
of something a little like pretending
this is always

(you and I in a big open brick building with concrete floors 
(lit by a single white light in the corner) 
dancing to my favorite song of yours —
loud — 
laughing and crying in each other’s faces,
harmonizing as best we can,
hands to hands.)

and much boredom and ignobleness besides

(your hair is long these days.)

I can't promise,

I can only hope,

that cracks like these will continue to show.

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