Try not to envision
the scene; try to
imagine the feeling.
It's vague,
but that
very vagueness
is what provides it
with solidity—
A small white
sun rises,
then it
falls quickly; birds fly
past, and are quickly swallowed
up by endless sky.
Below, people come
and people go.
Everything gets dirty—
some things
become filled;
others, used up. Still
others—are emptied.
While you stand off to the side,
reality processes,
is deliberately celebrated.
Before your eyes (slowly)
these lumbering filaments of history,
stripped of their
own rough mythologies,
are displayed,
are saluted—
are thus purified,
sorted, and
laundered
as they drive by—
into nature.
