i have yet to bloom a thousand more times

complain, complain against the dying of the light

Collect small astonishments. The first tomato of summer. A dog dreaming in its sleep. Someone laughing before they finish the joke. The moon arriving before the sun has quite departed. We keep waiting for life to announce itself with trumpets, but it has always preferred quieter instruments.

i wonder if you dream about me. no, i wonder if i appear in your dreams as an apparition. on the edges of your vision, of your mind. pouring you coffee in a cafe, holding the door for you, passing you on the street. i wonder if i'm a fragment regurgitated. vestigial but true and maybe the purest you'll ever see me.

we're getting closer to 2030 and what are we supposed to do then. that's not a number for a year to be