What am I even doing here anymore?
I feel so alone, cosmic distances separate
my dreams, eschatological wanderings
as phases of the moon, a pocked rock
in reflected light, trapped in alienating gravity
battered with eons of affliction, meteors
flashing in collision, asteroids like trillions of drops
of rain, random faces that fall as loose curtains
wet fissures, disjoined as tears draw out the years.
ŠJan G. Otterstrom F. Sept. 25, 2011, Costa Rica