The Saturday Option (after Kurt Wagner)

“Heaven is a disaster.”

He said, “But I love you,” and took a drink.
And she said, “My sponsor told me I can’t
have a relationship during the first year
of my recovery,” and took a drink.

“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going around the corner for a pint of scotch.”
“And then what?” “I don’t know.
The scotch usually decides the rest.”

It was late. He fumbled with his gait,
eventually finding his way to the dep,
where he tried to trade his phone
for a bottle of Caballero. It was late.

He longed for a cigarette, but respected the law.
Finally, he took a sip and turned to the accountant.
“My wife is just like a million dollars.”
“How’s that?” “I don’t have a million dollars.”

After the bottle she said, “Regret is only worthwhile
if you have a time machine.” Later that day,
in the quiet of his basement, he built
a time machine, and immediately regretted it.

During November, she was sure she loved him.
Then the night ended, and December arrived.
He still had a moustache, and she realized
he was not a humanitarian, but a hipster.

He rolled over and said, “Lately, I’ve been waking up
in strange places.” She said, “Would you like breakfast?”
“Don’t eat breakfast,” he replied, and left for the diner
where they knew he liked his bacon crisp and coffee black.