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