Contingency Plan
If I thought you were going to break my heart…
I would slip into my rain jacket,
Pull on my compression socks
And lace up my running shoes.
I would tell you I was going out for seltzer,
and I would drop my phone into a trash bin on the street.
I would take the M60 bus to the airport
Where I would buy a one-way ticket to Saigon.
From there, I’d hitch a ride south to Vung Tau
I’d dismount from the back of a motorbike
I’d rent a little room on the beach
And I would sleep for days on the cold cement floor.
When I could stand up again,
I’d walk over to the fish market
And I would buy all the fresh tilapia that I could carry.
Then I would wander through the streets
And ingratiate myself with the local stray dogs.
I would cock my head to the side when they saw me
I’d get close — but not too close — and toss them the fish.
And I would come back each day and talk to them,
until one day they would wonder where I lived
And they would follow me back to my little room
And we’d all sleep in a pile on the cold cement floor.
Then I would learn each dog’s name
And introduce them to the joys of belly rubs.
And we would take flea baths in the South China Sea
And they would convince me to live outside
And I would learn how to build giant fires
And the dogs would dig holes for us to sleep in at night
And when it rained we would camp under pagodas
And when the moon was full we’d howl at it
And all the lonely dogs would hear our cries
And they would join our pack.
Our band would run to Saigon over soft forest floors
And climb the highlands to Da Nang
We would bound across rice fields to Hanoi
And canter along the Red River to Sa Pa
And then we would live in the mountains
And the dogs would hunt for their meals
And I would dress in the skins of the Animals they devoured
And we would have séances on the solstices
And I would eat fresh watermelon every day.
And I would run naked and screaming across the steppes.
And I would spend whole years making soup.
And I would never find out if you missed me.
