Brad Rose

B r a d  R o s e 

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Oh How I Almost Loved You

Most of the time, we couldn’t tell that we were moving,

bodies, fog-slow, quiet as stone,

bed, still as a lawn.

Like Swiss neutrality, nothing happened.

There are 7 billion people in the world.

I am either one of them, or a mime.

To mow the yard, I yearn to set the grass ablaze.

Instead, I run out of gasoline.

In all the old movies about the Arctic

someone always warns,

Don’t go to sleep,

you’ll freeze to death.

In my head, I do the numbers:

thermometer jibs at absolute zero.

Is it any wonder I didn’t have a career in magic?

Thank you for your patience.