a better ending

i love to rewrite the back door. 
lock the mice in the bread box
just to join them. your plane turns 
into a heron. everyone is wearing yesterday 
like a shawl. i get kissed on the subway.
we are not elephants like i wanted to be.
in this version we grow old. participate in
the private property death cult. 
you get famous. i get famous. i think 
a better ending would involve more stairs.
a dress or at least a window. instead, 
there were sirens & cakes smashed
on the sidewalk. there was a dog with
birds for eyes. i did not hold you 
like i should have especially near the end.
i could have taken my shoes off 
at the door. i could have washed my hair 
with the sweet soap you liked. i got my nails done
for the last time. i saw behind a store
a herd of birthday balloons. rounded them up
& tied messages to each of them.
each was a different ending. all of them
were for you. let's call each other ghosts.
let's buy a boat & sail until there is no more
water beneath us. i get caught up in these 
writer tricks, believing if i dig enough
i will find the one ending that will save us
from all the ache. from the midnight drilled
full of holes. i stir a pot of water. i have
no shoes, just a mask. the town is quiet 
& laughs to itself at night. god i miss
your howling. the hardwood floor. 
our neighbors above us, dancing.