The alternate reality of my hypothetical self-contained love.

In a parallel universe,
the Truckee River floods every two years.
My life is punctuated by muddy waters, fallen trees,
the corpses of farm animals
bloated and damp.

Birthdays don’t exist.
I get the spontaneous urge
to kiss you on the last day in November.

In a parallel universe,
we are still together.
Our love exists as a snake bite 
and I am the one that is supposed to 
suck the venom out.

Each time a deer gets hit by a car
the car dies.

My brother sits in his room,
sweating, alone
tasting steel with that gun in his mouth.
In a parallel universe, he doesn’t take it out.

I am telling myself I want love
I am telling myself I only want love 

In a parallel universe, 
We are all making the same beautiful mistakes.