How I ensure nothing terrible ever happens to me again 

I cut my life into small slices

And freeze them, to prevent them

From going bad like bread, or coffee.

With my life too, I keep my hand hovered

Over its railing, close enough to grab,

Close enough to dip my fingers down

And glide across it, or write my name in it

When the condensation of tragedy allows.

I sleep with the clothes of my life

To make them warm for when I put them

On in the morning, I do this instead of

Buying thicker curtains in the winter. See,

I am not preventing my life, I am insulating it.

I brew my life into cups, and I bite my life

Into halves, bite from the blue pill

Of my life, until the bottle becomes only

Powder, and then I rub the powder of my

Life onto my gums and refill it.

I bathe in my life and remain in the tub of it

While it drains, pretending my life is the size

Of a canal, the drain a lock system.

When I consider the season of my life,

It is endlessly spring. Endlessly my birth

And my expected death. When I consider my life

I say sorry, I say good morning, I say please,

Don’t end today