I'm not sure when I stopped reading science fiction. Stopped believing in the world to come. When everything you dreamed at seventeen is stuck laughing at the sum -- you try to find some deeper meaning. But every day feels like an ending. You're not sure you feel it anymore. And you're not sure why that Catholic girl still lives inside you. You never shook your fear of hell. Transpacific flight. You may have already died, so smile up under the swell. And try to shake the constant feeling. The double takes and "no it can't be's. Then we met in a mansion and you swore you had the plan. Preacher talked about the ocean while you clamped onto my hand. Head split open in wonder. Marvel at the painted sky. Head split open whenever. You just want to see my face forever. I'm not sure when this turned into science fiction. Blessed to wake up at the world's end. A fitting joke. I found something to love. As you turn to salt in my hands.
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