IF ALZHEIMER'S CAN MAKE ME FORGET ABOUT US, I WELCOME IT

Time should be cleaner, and when it's a bad day
For bedsores, watch her drain—Quick! before she
Walks out on you again. If air can be brackish—
Hell wins. You're so angry—it makes you fuck that
Much harder. We'll always have dial-up & a faded
Tattoo that reads: It's over. Well—this was never real,
Anyway. A dignified man from another time plays
Minor-chord bridge—choke him righteous on distemper
Croutons, then make him sing you "September Song."