wherever you are, i will visit you on the weekend

there is a second universe. 
(one so far away i only find it in between sidewalk cracks and yellow birthday balloons)
in it, we go swimming on wednesday evenings
we drive to the top of the city to watch the sunrise every saturday morning except 
we don’t notice when the sun rises     we offer each other enough light without it

there is a universe in which i bring groceries to your apartment 
(your front door is red)

you make dinner while i peel potatoes and spill cranberry juice on your floors
here, we don’t scream
we don’t shout
we draw shapes in the red with our fingers         and talk about our futures like we know they exist 

there is a universe where i grow old
(and in this one, you do too) 

we dance in my kitchen until the downstairs neighbours complain 
and you fall asleep on the floor while i read Kafka 
(still, in every universe, you are the only one who will do this with me)

there is a second universe 
(one where your heart still beats) 
(one where i send you flowers every sunday morning)
(one where i am heavy with love)      (i do not know the meaning of loss)

 but       i am here
in this one 
alone              
on the kitchen floor
my hands cracked and bloodied with grief
while my heart is with            you
in a thousand different universes