fighting for the hypothetical

I am going to give you,
hypothetically,
my love, under every possible
branching scenario this twist,
turn and shout out loud
life could possibly go, and
under greater than forty percent

of the impossibly branching scenarios
as well, or better. I think,
therefore

if you check the math, probabilistically
speaking we have an infinite chance
of making this work as long as
our finite odds hold steady

- something they are projected to do,
by the way we make cryptic shadow-puppet
animals pounce against the living-room
curtain with our hands,

dancing in the beam of this flashlight. Wait
until they see what we do next, after

lights out. They won't see it, and sadly,

that's not believing. But for me,
and you kid

- the show must go
off without a hitch,
or else it's
wild improv all the way on
from there! And since when
have we ever run plays
off script?

So it's go, then. Shall we? I declare it is now
The End of Regulation. Time
to show this show the STOP sign, give
each other call signs, use them exlusively, flash
stolen signals - you! Call an audible, anything
that pleases your sense of humor,
or wonder, the occasion, propriety,
taste and smell, because baby baby baby

I'm going long. All the way, just in case
you pass.

But you shouldn't, because

I have mapped it out from here to the Nth potential, and

This doesn't end well.

This thing, with you?
With me. It does
not end well.

It does not.
Well, it doesn't
end any way actually,

It goes on for a spell