Sun going down spindled our shadows to Giacometti bronze, three old friends on a standing six mile walk, streetlights sputtering indignation at a dismal election more final referendum on the Enlightenment itself, casting us in unflattering light, angry white men, for all you knew, wreathed in the sour mist of seething resentment, bas relief of your shadowed face a dry wadi of worry framed with care within the folds of your hijab. Desperation, oncoming night, courage in the face of our disgraceful descent into darkness, God only knows what drove you to ignore the little voice in your head, steer to the curb to ask directions to the community college. You canβt miss it, finning my hand down Washington in a puny act of supplication, past holiday lights and shoppers, past this bar where we sit huddled over beer, watching in disbelief, news of night coming on.