(for Dana...)My first reaction is to run. There is no fight. But I can fly.  For this, I am sorry.  You fought. You built boxing rings out of test results. Bowedgracefully before each match. Showed your opponent no mercy -but made sure each hit was clean.  Me? I took a box of matchesto the mats the morning I woketo permanent emptiness. I made the hospitaldance in gasolined blue/orange flames againstthe grayest November sky ever etched from Eden’s rough draft.  Hey God - you fucking missing a blueprint?! I took your trophies out of the case& bet it all on forgiveness.  Almost doesn’t count. Almost is so close to complete. Almost - is fucked.  Like - you almost had it beat a third time.Like - you almost found happiness. Like you almost won.  Like you almost knew how much you were loved.Like we almost made it clear.Like you almost stood a chance.Like it was almost alright. Like I almost said goodbye. Like I’ll almost see you tomorrow. Like it almost doesn’t hurt.  Like you are almost still here.