It's the nature of space
to blip-blip-blip out existence, and
some asteroid is eventually gonna smoosh us
without the satellite laser to protect
the techno-biological-mind that
thinks for the masses and tucks our babies
in at night; that's a fairy tale though, because space
is only time that's infinitely empty, the truth is
under the stars closing in, the cold
stars that cut like diamonds through indigo
Philadelphia skies; you can't see them
my love, the stars, you'll have to imagine them 'cause
we're somewhere's else entirely,
somewhere in the pretty marsh
that exists after time, that isn't anything special
at all, that is as always was inevitably uncolored,
a shrinking iris, a beautiful smile.
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