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After the meeting John walked up to Michelle, the rain turning to ice again. The twigs on nearby trees looked like toy animals completely encased; trapped in clear plastic cubes. As a child he’d imagined the entire world melting, the ice and all the animals coming to life.

“My name is John. I’m an alcoholic,” he said.

“You don’t need to say that outside.” She looked at the ground from the top of the stairs.

“I didn’t mean to say that but I wanted you to know I liked what you said in there about vitamins. How one made you feel good and soon you were taking ten a day. I thought it was funny.”

“It’s what we do.”

“I’d like to know what brand of vitamins.”

She side-stepped down the brick stairs of the church.

“Be careful out there,” he said.

“Yes, I know.”

“If you fall, don’t worry, I’ll pick you up. I’ll probably laugh, though.”

“I would too. I always laugh at someone who falls on their face. My name is Michelle.”

“I know. I heard it inside.”

“Well, see you next week.”

They walked to their cars, navigating places where they could see down to the blacktop. John looked for animals in a tree, instead saw a twig ricochet to the ground.

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Timothy Gager is the author of eight books of poetry and fiction. Over 250 pieces of his work have been published on-line or in print. He lives on www.timothygager.com

I go on a Valentine’s bender buying the super-duper extra-large box of chocolates which barely wedged into a shopping cart, a stuffed teddy bear, cards with gooey Hallmark sentiment, some with funny “bend you over the sofa” quotations and finally ones featuring Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

Then I’m buying pajama-grams and something from Victoria’s Secret which can be purchased on-line and a poem written by Neruda, I’m printing out in red—bold on white paper thicker than what’s usually in the printer,

It was during the last snow storm that I cheated on her; told her I was going to work, called the office and said the weather was too rough. When the going gets tough…three dozen roses can be purchased tomorrow, 24 red and 12 white, wrapped up with a necklace with a heart shaped pendant of tiny diamonds on its border, then breakfast in bed and shit, did I forget anything? How about something for her cat?

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Timothy Gager is the author of eight books of poetry and fiction. Over 250 pieces of his work have been published on-line or in print. He lives on www.timothygager.com

The world was too large, full of vast points of distance, so Sal and Crystal went away for a weekend to their own planet, undiscovered and fairly close. It was small and when they lay down together, her head rested on his shoulder and their legs wrapped completely around the orb. At the end point their feet nestled on top of each other.

When they made love on it, Crystal said, she felt a earthquake.

“Shut up,” Sal said. “Planet-quake! Don’t talk about that other place. This is a tiny planet that I’d like to stay on it forever. It has everything we need.”

“Water?”

“You may not see it, but I’m sure we’re lying in it.”

“Food?”

“We can eat if we want—there’s a restaurant right around the bend. More importantly is that we can talk…feel good. There is so much to feel bad about on earth, I wish I didn’t have to return there.”

“We have to go back at some point.”

“Do we?”

“Yes. That’s the gravity of it.”

“Can we dance first?”

They stood up and wobbled as if rising from an all-day barstool. They made bad-ass faces, and laughed until the weight of the affair pushed their planet back into the earth’s atmosphere. There was a burst of fire, and their pieces fell mostly in the ocean, but some fell into houses on the Eastern seaboard and many of the larger chunks were found spread all over Oklahoma, Louisiana and Texas.

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Timothy Gager is the author of eight books of poetry and fiction. Over 250 pieces of his work have been published on-line or in print. He lives on www.timothygager.com