I. The Past

Pools of time muddle your eyes. …



Remember when…

We slept underneath Jason’s Golden Fleece,

and you asked me if I was cold when I shivered?

I said yes,

but really I was just hungry for your kisses,

because I’d always loved the taste of…

winter Homarus americanus

(lobsters cooked in buttery science)



and

Parisian summers, broken French

(Tu…vous…j’aime? J’aime…vous…..tu….j’aime tu?)







I like speaking in French because I’ve yet to figure out how to say I Love You in English.



II. The Present

The sun looks brighter when you stand underneath a microscope.

…..(I never did like Science as much as you did.)

I can’t wait until you become allergic to laboratories,

because that’s when you can eat my lips.

After all, I don’t need them.

I don’t really need a mouth until I can end a fragment,

sew words together so that they make sense with a period at the end of the needle

(the one that stabbed me in the eye last time you were here,

and I had yet to learn that you were a feminist).

I

Lov---

III. The Future

You want to build a time machine,

fast forward your thoughts.

It's just too bad that you were always better at and more interested in Chemistry than Physics,

because it would be nice if you could see me as a corpse who is

clad in a long white dress made from material called reality

and

growing weary of rabbit holes where nobody can go insane.





….I’d like to fall into your rabbit hole, and then maybe I could use lo---



…..ve----

to sleep next to you underneath our very own constellation

(you call yourself the child of Andromeda and Perseus.





….I just want to smell a star.)