This morning too
it jumped on his bed and
cried and pounced on his
face and licked his forehead

Now he had a reason to wake up
To feed the cat

And he had a reason to
take showers
Because the cat didn't like to
lick a greasy face

He had a reason to go
out and look for work
Because cat food wasn’t free

And he had a reason to come
back home
Because the cat would miss him

He had a reason to live
And it was a tiny reason to live
but it still beat all
the reasons to die

I remember when I thought
you might really be mine.
We were chasing the last tolerable moments
before the storm wrapped itself
around us.
Seagulls swarmed above our heads
and I thought they would surely
take you from me.
Foaming waves crashed
against our feet
and I tried desperately to anchor myself
to you.

I felt like something of a stray
that you had picked up-
your good deed.

Maybe the snow melted my armor.
Maybe the rush of it all
left me temporarily unable
to worry myself inside out.
I took off my coat
and my defenses
and laughed my head off
running through the freezing sand
still keeping up with you
somehow.

Now I just want to live,
forever yours,
in a tiny snow globe
of our storm.

I must admit:
I am unwilling to give
even a hint of consideration
to the thought of being anything,
anyone other than that brilliant,
briefly lit comet,
hurtling toward home.

It matters not
where I land,
or who takes pictures from the ground.

This is only a trip.
This is just a ride.
So fleeting, so fiery,
that you wouldn't want to pause to wonder
what you look like up there,
or else you might miss
the very things that make
your fires unforgettable
and your blast burn true.