A satellite is crashing into the earth tonight.
I dream of brussels sprouts and red potatoes
at the Ferry Building—after gym together.
I ran two miles and then climbed uphill
for a very long time. I’m down from my
high. Could be faulty scales. Fluctuation.
Stacey’s is closing. Here lies a bookmark
for a dead bookstore. A pregnant pause
lies between two thoughts. Could be years
of new music in just one month. But then
time speeds up. Just north of which, a
group of friends complete a circle and
become closer forever. Closer to the
threshhold of nirvana or non-existence.
We walk home as fireworks light up the sky.
