NOTE: This poem came about in a kind of strange fugue state. I'd been dealing with my divorce pretty well. I came in to the house we used to inhabit after karaoke one Monday night, all flush with my good time. As I locked the door, I saw the Magnetic Poetry box on top of the fridge, left over from when my ex-wife Yuri got a Romantic Magnetic Poetry calendar (I may have even given it to her, it's hard to remember). Somehow, it bothered me. So I was seized with a need to make it reflect what happened and where we were at the time.

It was no easy task -- if you don't know what Magnetic Poetry is, they give you a box full of tiles with words on the front and magnets on the back. Your job is to make poetry out of it. The language in the box was intended for happier times. Still, I'm can be a man of singular focus, so I stood there in the doorway, next to the refridgerator, for close to two hours, crafting the words of elation into a eulogy for tragedy. This is the result, only given punctuation and capitalization to make the thoughts more clear.