Stepping on carpet
(climbing onto rock)
We stare at screen
(I cast my spell...)
I CAN conquer man's demise.
Touchdowns
convert  to gazing into the scripts of our souls.
Stagnant and somber,
you are inches away
I am in floating in space
I sit on couch
(or sitting on active volcano?)
and stare at blank walls
(or cotton candy sunsets?)
And I grab your hand
and we float out the window
(much like Peter Pan and Wendy)
and we are Icelandic campers
we are North African monkeys grooming each other
we are Alaskan sibling salmon, swimming to the exact spot our eggs once resided
always against current
teasing the brown bear
we are slipping penguins
the sea lions watch our transition
from awkward wobbling
to graceful gliding
figure eighting
between icebergs
We have so much energy that the gulls
might bet on us melting the bergs
we are gas and light and air and water and mother moon

we are so much more than this cancerous room

I know it. You know it.

Instead we groan at fumbles
and pile plates high with lays potato chips
layered grief stuck between tongue and cheek

Goodbye my dear friend.

I know you heard me.