“chromosomal danceoh, heavenly happenstancerare creation, you-Marcus (Poetry Spam #22)”

“My thoughts create my world -Marcus Flutie”

“It's just Jessica and Marcus, oxymoronically alone together.”

“So everything we believe about happiness is wrong," I said.He nodded.Everything?" I asked, when what I meant was, Everything? Including you? Including me?And Marcus, being Marcus, knew what I really wanted to know, and answered my silent, more significant question. He held up his hand to shield the rays and looked me in the eyes.Almost.”

“She mailed me a Merry Christmas-I'm-Breaking-Up-with-You card. I'll read it to you," he said. He cleared his throat. "Dear Marcus. Merry Christmas. I'm breaking up with you. Mia.”

“I thought Marcus was going to be in my life forever. Then I thought I was wrong. Now he’s back. But this time I know what’s certain: Marcus will be gone again, and back again and again and again because nothing is permanent. Especially people. Strangers become friends. Friends become lovers. Lovers become strangers. Strangers become friends once more, and over and over. Tomorrow, next week, fifty years from now, I know I’ll get another one-word postcard from Marcus, because this one doesn’t have a period signifying the end of the sentence.Or the end of anything at all.”

“I love when I reach Marcus on the phone and as he says hello, I can hear the music he's listening to in the background. That music is the sound of him without me. How he surrounds himself when I'm not there, which is almost all the time.”