In other worlds…

In other worlds, we never get to meet:
the scheduling just doesn’t work that day
or one of us has rehearsals to play.
In other worlds the timing’s wrong. We meet
and then the air is tepid, or our feet
crunch just too loudly on the ground. You say
we’re fortunate. How much quantum collapse
has led us here? How many universes died
so we could live like this: a subway ride
with interlinked hands, lost with Google Maps
open on screens we have no patience for,
exploding into love? I do not care.
In this one instance you are mine. We share
this fighting chance and keep track of the score.

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