Easier

It doesn’t get any easier,
the time that ticks away from the
line drawn by your last breath,
it doesn’t strictly define a difference between now and then,
the lint in your pocket will keep on sticking to the inside of each piece of gum,
and you’ll chew your pants every time you pop it,

It doesn’t get easier,
It may get less lurid,
less sharp and slicing,
less like a dream after jalapeños,
the heartburn may abate
but the heartache won’t,
because we tie our heart together with thousands of strings
and when one snaps, the heart bulges out
as if being pressed under the weight of every decible it cannot create,

and you’ll look for him,
god you’ll look for him everywhere,
you’ll look inside freshly opened cans of peaches,
inside coffee table picture books of the wonders of america,
you’ll look in patterns of jetstream,
see him freefalling through the air and waving at you,
you’ll peel off the top of your ham sandwich and expect to see his bifocals squinting out from under the swiss,

and it doesn’t get any easier,
but one day,
you’ll start to look for the giant pencil in the book instead,
and you’ll double check to make sure that there’s light mayo on your ham sandwich,
and you’ll realize that you don’t need to look in order to find him,
he’s there in you,
he’s always been there in you,
and he’ll be there until other people start looking for you in the jetstreams.

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