even though time doesn’t exist,
and the only thing the sun does is sit there
while the earth spins round,
and that we base all of our life choices on
a rock and a giant star,
to spend seven minutes in heaven with you,
would be a good use of time.

but time does not exist,
no, we made it up.
so by those rules,
we can change it.
we can stretch seven minutes into seven years,
seven lifetimes,
seven billion years.
even if it meant wasting my sun spins.
because if it meant that i got to be with you,
then it wasn’t really a waste after all.

fifteen hours.
fourteen, depending on
where in australia you are from.
but for me, it is fifteen hours.

los angeles is fifteen-hour flight from melbourne.
fifteen hours on a plane, and you’ll be in america.
you’ll be in a ****** country, where it almost seems like
the new craze is to be a shooter,
and you only get noticed if you get shot.

they are begging, pleading,
“please stop them from killing us,
our families, our friends!”
and the others say
“oh, but i really love my gun.”
“and i care about my gun more than i care about you.”
“and i care more about my machine made to take life than about you
getting to keep yours.”
and that’s just that, i suppose.

i am fifteen hours away from a ****** country,
and i can’t tell if i’m too close
or not close enough.

i am fifteen hours away from a ****** country,
and for some reason,
that’s just fine.