I am seated, legs crossed Jackie O style,
hands quietly, and eternally resting on fatless thighs,
my god, they are so cold today.

and it appears
that i am waiting for forever, Forever, sweet Forever,
but Forever will not come.

Whether his train has departed,
I will not have known.
I will not have known the robust, mathematical eyes
that scoured the horizon from the seventh car from the rear.
I will not have known what they have seen, the halves of sheep that were black, the other halves of sheep assumed to be another thing entirely...

It falls now, on me.
Like many shredded pieces of ticker tape,
My god, it is here, singular and lovely.
god-like in its beauty,
gray and divine,
how IT falls.