Solar System

It is only 2pm.
The clouds are unused,
you can still see the moon 
without trying. I feel as though 
I am naked in a long and bright hallway
where it is warm and okay 
to be a liar. To forget our environment
has outlived its ablution. 

There is a branch hanging 
between two electrical wires
on Maryland Avenue. 

To distract myself
from it all being over 
I picture colorful buffaloes 
tearing up reeds 
in a book I once loved as a child.

If this were the final scene of my life,
it wouldn’t be too sad.
I wake on the floor somewhere
like a sterile kitchen: two plates, six chairs, 
a spoon. I widen my mouth to talk.