This is our day.

You cannot have any of it.
It is for us alone,
the two of us savoring
the transient delights
of a day like none other,
living in multiple worlds
at once,
immersed in them and
shaking off the ordinary
with neither thought
nor brittle regret.
You cannot interfere today.
You cannot try to drag me
into the charnel house
again.
I will not go along with your
reptilian alarms and your frantic
efforts to shove tragic photographs
in front of me.
I brush them aside with ready
contempt, lest I give up more than
a second's worth of effort.
She and I are too important
and you are too tiresome,
too old,
and too limply malicious
to matter.
This day is my victory,
our victory,
and your pathetic attempts
to prevent it from being so
will simply make my victory
tomorrow
that much sweeter.