Did you know that the God of randomness was awake today?
I mean yesterday, the yesterday that is today, tomorrow?
I mean like the human that flew through the window 
	of randomness 
and died flapping on the floorboards of the insecure, 
	I mean obscure.

I mean he’d never seen it, heard it, never felt it coming
 as it arrived in the dark, bright morning that was yesterday.
I mean tomorrow wrapped in the hollow hands of the screaming,
rocking onwards and outwards to the internal cadence of chaos.
I wonder when it was that I lost you? That I found you, 
	that I lost you 
in the ever-running race of trying to return home?
 
Standing over the bedside, I wonder if you would have screamed 
	in Kuwait
as we stacked the bodies and the parts of bodies on flatbed 
	trucks as the war raged on.
I know I couldn’t, I couldn’t scream because everything 
	inside of me 
that was capable of screaming was already dead, dead that day,
and dead the day before, and dead every day after.
So today I will do for you what no one could do for me.
 
I will take you home,
I will hold you awake,
watch you sleep
and love you 
in hurt ways that will take decades for you to understand.
And then like that bird through the window, like that nail 
	that fell from the horseshoe,
we will lose the war and each other in the dim tides 
	of the random.
 
And that is when you will remember
how I held you and loved you,
how I worried sleepless at night 
as you slept in the nightmare of car accidents.
And it is when the wings stop flapping,
the wheels stop rolling that you will
find the love in the yesterday that is today, tomorrow.