Mama said love will set you free, but not before it shackles you
to the stars and leaves you chained to their points like a dog.
There are worse things than a day that seems like it will never end.
There are days that beat you to a bloody pulp with brass knuckles
but if you jump you’ll never make it to the days that tuck you into bed.
Look at me now. Hold your hands up and separate all five fingers
like a starfish, then swim them over to meet mine.
Measure the space between my index finger and yours when our hands
are locked together. That is the distance between life and death.
I’ll only untangle my fingers from yours like kite strings
when that distance stops seeming less like a chasm
stretching from one side of a canyon to another and more like
the number of seconds to travel at the speed of light to Mars.
When God made you he probably didn’t think you’d feel
like first-class mail all the time, but hey, that’s a huge improvement
over feeling like a mailbox full of letters nobody wants to open.
That’s why the post office has so many locked boxes.
Maybe God just forgets the combination to unlock ‘em sometimes.
Look at my arms now. Fold yourself into me like a jellyfish.
I will let you hang from my arms if it means you use me as a gallows
instead of the real deal. I am licensed in bending before breaking,
so don’t worry about me ever letting you down.
The next time we’re in Reno and you’re drunk at the slot wheel,
gamble with cards and poker chips instead of life.
You’ll get bigger wins that way.
Point your toes now. Spread your arms like-wait for it,
not like wings, but doors that won’t ever close.
Mama said love will set you free. But jumping off a roof’s not love,
it’s plummeting ever closer toward a crushed skull.
Love means falling, so turn those pointed toes into heavy feet
and fall into me instead.