Say we never went to the Dairy
Queen, licked an ice cream cone

on the concrete bench outside
on a hot summer afternoon.

Say you never loved the way
I watched you watch a movie.

Say we go back in time, unmeet
ourselves and save everyone

all the trouble we cause later;
the house, the park, the ski

trip, your dad having to buy
you a new car. And let us say

that we never meant it, any
of it. We could take back all 

the words we said: window, parallel,
forever, some more. Love 

is a lot like a hot air balloon – 
there is either not enough 

to hold us, or so much
that it carries us away.