Supernova

Time is like a catfish in its hiding place
impossible to grab without it biting you.
I want to feel the fangs it’s doesn’t
show too often without reasons
in the background of the picture.
I always said I wouldn’t miss her
all the way back there where
everything is greener than a mint leaf.
Don’t read these lines with a bullshit
exaggerated inflection and pretend
that there is something in performing.
This is a warning for the few of us
still trying.

In the future when our sun is finally dying
and the core of it just keeps on glowing redder,
mix yourself a drink of something colorful.
The end is always wonderful even if it isn’t happy,
and it’s raining down on everything we planned for.
She shaves her legs with a straight razor
because she likes the way it feels
against her skin. I sit back in the rocking chair
by the window with the slowly melting blinds
and read the lines to her the way
that I would whisper in her ear.