Happy Birthday

If the satellite doesn't explode;
if the man on the screen got it wrong and tomorrow finds us in our beds,
then I'll come back and see you again.
We do not have much time. Soon our parents will die, and our brothers and sisters,
and the brothers and sisters of our friends.

(Sarah got Gumby for her birthday;
Jennifer hunts moths;
and I am dressing as a skeleton for Halloween again--)

Only then can we sit here and talk plainly:

"I love you. Do you love me?"

"I do. Can I keep you company?"

"Yes, please."

We sit in front of the television to see if it will snow. Groceries, a trip to the bank, download the pictures from the night before. I will stay in tonight, meet you at the bar tomorrow. Raise a glass and say: How perfect it was to be alive with you in the world today. Whether the camera catches us or not. Even if the sky fills with fire.

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