Another day of wild winds and dogs sitting still in the sun, the playlist on repeat. A tincture of prescience beading glibly on the tip of your careless tongue. Swallowing what may well be coffee, alternating sparrows and squirrels, I glom onto the composition. The foundation and the firmament buck and sway, fleeting sky, turning earth. The signal and the switch.
Eyes squint though steeped in shadow, analog static fizzing through the physics, travelers depart together to the tune of silence as the winds grow warm. Woke to the westering full on moon, a decree upon the waiting day. Now the dusk is spun, home bound commuters and the worshipful path before, traffic counted in blur and hush. Bones livid with the moment, I trail smoke and sigh, waiting with the world in turn.
The minutes pass as sinking, the slow gray drawl mixing with the blue sky blue above. Witness the weight, witness the spill of years as patches fog and bleary resignation. The burnt down horizons as the mortality started adding up. The scores all settling themselves. Still this mad insistence, this place held among the numbers, this stubborn animal grandiosity. The purity of this bright fury, holding every direction down. The deep fade of an ordinary dusk.
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