If I imagine you dead, there is no love immense enough to bring you back to earth; but here, in this bowl of apples, on this kitchen table, gold and crimson in a space that could not be more ample or precise I see you drifting in the selfsame light that I inhabit, wishing not to occupy, or slip loose, or possess, life being more to me than I could ever wish for, colour, shape, the subtleties of shade, and when I bite into the fruit, the taste of it, much more than I could wish for; though I wish you could be here
John Burnside, “Still Life with Lost Cosmonaut,” Still Life with Feeding Snake: Poems (Jonathan Cape, 2017)
The other night I had a dream where all the teams in Pokemon Go got little mascots. Team mystic’s was this little tubby penguin holding a tiny flag, team valor’s was a little round fox thing with a leather jacket, and team instinct’s was just. The minions. Like the minions from despicable me. I wanted To Die.