If glass wall mullions
are people with limbs dangling
over the edge. If she dreams

about you (again), a figure
that saunters up an aisle,
the world suddenly muted.

If the drug has a half-life
of a month, and it’s day
one. If you know the lyrics

but forget

what they mean. If snow
is perception, not weather.
If the side

effects

of living
on the sidelines. If you do,
indeed, still have the potential

to love and know how
to map the Little Dipper
constellation in freckles

on her left arm.
If you do remember
where the exit is,

and existing

is wherever she
identifies the voice
whispering: “Nope,

still no driver’s license.”
If it’s no one’s fault
the owl left early.