Time is a train I keep missing, my
ears plugged into interstellar nadir,
waiting for any radio signal, waiting
for music not my own, someone
out there to collect me to find me
in a universe of abandoned cities filled
with bartending algorithms to serve
beers and not people. Now I have a glass
of poison that warms skin and toys with
hearts, its froth glittering like civilizations –
Even if we too stopped blinking surely machines
will evolve to pilot a train to send me anywhere
but home and warm bodies, and time will tell
everything we don’t have the answers for, like
when will love be a star that isn’t so far away.
Lune L. 