stratosphericallyspeaking, time
is nothing; up here, closer to the edge,
danger should be bloodshot red,
but the minutes pass like trivial anecdotes.
there are no ticktocks, no alarms flashing.
just status quo, just the same wayward path:
from this vacuum, this vantage, we see cuba
as insignificant. fiveminutes turn to fourminutes
but the clock is invisible. we party like it's 1953,
gamma or no gamma. this is the way we live - quickly
and without regret. our music runs to raging beats -
fireheatwarignorance. the earth flashes white, we stop (and stare)
at the end of the world, we realise it's cold. we realise
the time. it's almost midnight. a whisper carries to our ears:
nobody watches the watchmen because nobody can see.
