She called exactly four hours after the earth stopped moving.
While we waited for contact, wave after wave, we sat.
Through repetition and capture, we learned to stay constantly aware.
It was a lesson worn familiar as the day when I gave my soul away.
An unbecoming strategy for some; survival for others.
Protecting misgivings and intentional reactions,
we spent our remaining days building machines
that ran on unrequited syllabic utterances.
Flip back, back track, forward leaning free verses
flowed as patterns, as privileged misdemeanors.
Our hearts grew to beat metaphorically.
After pausing to ask how the earth breathes
under the weight of concrete,
she said act like you’ve been here before.
It was a coded reminder of legacy.
A collective fantasy replicated endlessly
in anticipation for moments we never took the time to define.
For some, wanting more is our purpose.