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The Dream Machine tells me it’s three minutes to one. I’d been reading those green letters since three past eleven. And I got all cosmic as I watched the clock tick off minutes from my years when it feels like I arrived here just yesterday. (Or whatever the sayings say.) We were created as gleams of the sun, but then a great big blackness poured down to separate everyone, as if all the light were jettisoned.
It seems that I have seen all that I want to see to be convinced that I’ve stumbled on heaven. She’d been elated and taken some lumps, she was tougher than plaster and faster than any captor could dream of. But now she didn’t have to run.
I once thought I was all alone, I once thought I didn’t need anything, but my heart is Saturn and maybe she is its ring.