My Ideal Boyfriend Is a Two-Sport Athlete
I’m looking at a picture of a bearded man
superimposed against a mountain. He is not
on the mountain, but it’s the idea of him
in the snow that I like, wearing a mock turtleneck
and freezing to death. I’ll find him preserved
with a bag of trail mix and a well-seasoned pan
and will thaw him out like you would
were you the caretaker of a vault of kept heads.
A renegade cryonicist has no concern
for the way a revived brain is never the same
as it was, the way a person can change.
I can feed him a new name. I can put him
in the cavity of a warm animal for safekeeping.
When he wakes, he can wax his beard
like a gleaming board upon an uncertain sea,
a void appreciated for beauty and fascination.about the author