I wish this were sadness in rehearsal
(then I’d cut your part) or a four-hankie
movie (tears, popcorn, extra salt).

If it were a dream,
I’d remember soon to wake,
wash the ache from my face,
speed the scene by car.

But it’s not unreal;
only you are,

removed from this place
to an unknown other,
while we pinch ourselves to prove
here’s life,
big red lobster.

- Richard Baldasty