I Ride the Bus

It's a poem.

I ride the bus
and notice the electric lines
     made of streetlights
     - pale reflections
in the gutter.   over time
     there is a collapse
inward, like footsteps on the
beach, sand crumbling
beneath
     your toes – you watch
the corner of the moon dangle its
     crooked smile
over the ocean. Right there we collapsed
on our backs
laughing against the
annihilation we
     knew
waited for us
     at the end of everything.