year before the end

in my dream, a woman with gigantic breasts,
in a parking garage, after the Apocalypse —

i am not some little kid,
i am not some heartbroken fop,
but i'm still amazed that,
in planning a trip up the coast,
i can only think about our landlocked week
together, luray caverns,
egg sandwiches, the time we had
in hotel rooms, your asshole dad,
and hell, you couldn't say it
but it was me desperate—

now, i have to pretend
upon hearing your mention
or worse, a letter, like
everything couldn't better

like this heart's not on fire.