After that star died,
the white dwarf’s stronger
gravity probably dragged in
the asteroid and tore it apart.

I just…
I can’t even…

I’m not sure
whether I’ve really captured
just how black the train looked or how
that blended with the darkness of the clearest
nighttime sky
one can get in a city,

or the way the particular Rachmaninov
played with my memories of singing in choir,
or the way the pieces I sang in church
really shined for me tonight,
even before all this.

So much tends to fall away,
when one tries to put something
into words.

I called my friend. Her phone
was off. Discouraged, I drive home.

Far away, she sings alone. Her voice
occludes, perhaps, her ringing phone,
or maybe I killed it, the spirit
that carries affection between those
who life has carried apart.

I turn onto the highway. The curve
reveals a house, faintly blue
with Christmas lights. Another glance
reveals my error – it’s a train, the shine
my headlights on the engine, darkened
by reflection. I come parallel, and pull ahead
as the Rachmaninov on the radio pulls past its climax,
the choir fading, the vision left behind.

W
e’r
e all
going
to die!
We’re a
ll going t
o die! We
‘re all goin
g to die! We
‘re all going t
o die! We’re al
l going to die! W
e’re all going to d
ie! We’re all going
to die! We’re all go
ing to die! We’re all
going to die! We’re a
ll going to die! We’re a
ll going to die! We’re all
going to die! We’re all go
ing to die! We’re all going
to die! We’re all going to di
e! We’re all going to die! We
‘re all going to die! We’re all go
ing to die!