Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

he read the New York Times from right to left.
    He would've spit coffee into his mug, unbrushed his teeth, and put hair on his face with a razor.
    He would've gotten back into bed, the alarm would've rung backward, he would've dreamt backward.
    Then he would've gotten up again at the end of the night before the worst day.
    He would've walked backward to my room, whistling “I Am the Walrus” backward.
    He would've gotten into bed with me.
    We would've looked at the stars on my ceiling, which would've pulled back their light from our eyes.
    I'd have said “Nothing” backward.
    He'd have said “Yeah, buddy?” backward.
    I'd have said “Dad?” backward, which would have sounded the same as “Dad” forward.
    He would have told me the story of the Sixth Borough, from the voice in the can at the end to the beginning, from “I love you” to “Once upon a time...”
    We would have been safe.