And the lights will go out too, darkness opening like a word.
Arms reaching for coats framing doorways
Shaping the spilling light – tangerine warm for closing.
Friends will go, counting steps for eventually
The last time. Doors will close and their locks will change,
Sun boiling through the window, dust collects above the fridge.
Outside, streets collect with cars. And you’ll walk down them all,
Every single one, catch a bus and maybe hear conversation,
Find the look in an eye, run in the dream of a dog or
See stain glass in rainwater, swear that you did.
Your teeth will rot, as they must, and the flowers will die,
Flights will delay and people will be disappointed in you
Or excite you or maybe not care at all.
Because the lights will go out,
And the shapes we make in shadows on the wall
Will be forgotten, like the dream of a dog in a dusty sunbeam,
In an orange that never goes out.
There are fig trees and factories 