These skyscrapers are monuments built by God. See how the moon is shining tonight, how she is a perfect circle as minuscule as a pupil. But Iβd like to pretend that she dilates, waxes, herself to become a halo for these monuments that were created like ziggurats to reach God. Because, all the while, theyβre really
as holy and immaculate as the night sky above them washed by the river of luminescent car headlights flooding the streets and dead stars flowering above