what will it look like 

when your bones grow brittle and 

your eyebrows fall out

will your heart still pick up its pace 

on hearing my name?

will your desire to run for miles 

to kiss the soft spot behind my earlobe

overcome your walker-bound body?

will you throw the idea that it's over to the rug and dance upon it? 

what will it look like?

I had an old dog once

on her last day

she took the long journey 

from the bed she lay upon 

to find me 

a million miles away

across the room, 

so she could put her little head in my lap

to say goodbye

are you her brother?

are you going to give the finger to that bastard universe and 

make that one last long journey my way?

i will be here waiting