lovers’ revisionist history

oh, i’ve never seen an anthill in the rain
though i assume they’ve taken precautions for implosion
running through the tunnels they have only one thing on their mind
i guess we have that in common

on the highway stuck in traffic i let the radio play softly to remind me of the future
when we declare war against saturn and our alliance with the moon
would we argue over dinner about space politics and the economy
or just sit in silence over burnt lasagna

in groups of strangers i tell them that i miss your laugh the most
a lie i’ve let myself believe because truthfully
i don’t remember your smile at all
just blurred out portions of a distant face
if i saw you passing by would we even recognize the pain

but if we ever got the chance to be together again in the same memory
i’d ask if you remember the tippy top of the parking lot
or the stolen kisses in your car
although i know the answer would be no
all you remember was the silent fights and broken speedometer
time has turned small talk into symbolism

prayer isn’t as divine as it seems
it’s just compulsion with chapped elbows
i tap my shoes together twice in hopes to see you again
it hasn’t worked yet
but maybe i’m getting closer

the mangrove ant will send a soldier to block the entrance when it’s raining
a blood sacrifice destroyed by water
for the good of the colony
it’s only a temporary fix
before it leads to a large scale anoxic event
but if i had to go out by either suffocation or drowning
i would pick the slow death every time.