It made me happy.
It made me a desert.
It isn’t that the world is cruel,
it is simply that it is vacant.
People appear like sudden sparks in a dark hallway,
they say beautiful things that taste like salt,
and then, they disappear into the geography of later.
Now light is no longer a midday glare;
it is a focused, singular beam,
enough to roast one ant
while the rest of everything stays cold.
But I squint to see
still dancing
straight toward the sun.
Not looking for morning,
but to ask it
to finally,
finish what it started.