outside a man has stopped hitting a tree with a stick the streetlight stutters on, off a bike frame stripped bare, locked to a stop sign on the lamppost, a crumbling printout of a missing cat a homeless woman cradles a boom box like a baby I have an ambivalent interest in the stars which both fizzle out and burn boldly it’s not possible to pick it up where I was last November those cartwheels on the polo field are not reversible somewhere a traffic light is red and I am fine with that there are no good reasons for stepping off the curb the water in the puddle is completely still a clock has stopped and nothing changes not even the sun’s predictable return but I can hold off for a few more hours until something shows up
