Dear Dangerous, How Do You Explain It

We believed the world would end,

fled now into the alley or the forest.

Among the amber that clots minute by minute

or a ship that sails to show how long time takes to happen

How does one skip a stone on water,

the moment between skips.

A preoccupation with god or history is no occupation.

It happens that every day is synchronous

that I am still right now a little boy or dying.

How do you explain it,

seven o'clock, out of breath and arduous—

Dear unsettled evening, all the cold shadows,

how lucky we were to have lived

in the world—