i’d like to think
that somewhere there’s a version of me
that goes swing dancing
in those cute oral dresses and short-heeled shoes. a universe
where i wake up next to you
instead of stranded, suocating,
a bag shoved over my head.
another me
that can pull myself up
like black stockings in the snow.
maybe even one
that doesn’t talk to ghosts
because making friends has always failed.
possibly one more, one who doesn’t
rely on crystals to give stronger pep talks
than a father.
and maybe there’s a paradise
where you don’t fall in love
unless it’s the right one;
because what’s more pointless
than a lover who always leaves?

and maybe on some other speck,
there’s someone with a life just like mine who dreams of better worlds,
with better people,
and better talks.

and maybe someday
they won’t have to dream.