Never

Never scorches the sidewalk.
Never singes the hairs on our chests.

Never, the last gas station
on the mountain. Never,
a separate entity,
its own,
eternal,
always.

If I saw you,
and entered reality fully,
briefly, if only,
with my six pack of Newcastle,
and punctured your stasis,
or whirlpool,
or shimmering,
then grateful are we
for the realness of life and all.

My darling,
my enemy,
my everything/nothing,
the broken twig
is transplanted -
the splice is to generate
wholly its duplicate,
mothered by earth,
fathered by time,
which is nonsense;
don't worry.

It was your own fault,
not mine.
And their fault,
not ours,
and my fault,
as it goes,
so I'll always be willing,
to shoulder the burden
of living,
while you float,
while you float

on the puppy dog cloud
I have given you,
and I'll puff at it wildly,
perpetually, madly,
incessantly,
driving the whisp of you upward
as I furtively sink
to the core.

Keep smiling.

You will breathe the air.
I will absorb the ore.

We will dig until the bedrock,
and course until the skylight glass,
until my drill bit busts,
and your wax wings melt,
and we are human beings once more.