on tram lines

I read to lessen certainty. my little case of what I know is humbled by a lack of answers in the dark. I sit on the platform and laugh into the fog. if everything is temporary how much can the moment matter? present tense is futile as the rain. you say you see the humour too.

monuments mean as much as the dreams we can't remember. pigeons on tram lines. adjacent strangers fixing faces in the library bathroom mirror. free samples and a funeral pyre of children on my phone. outlet malls or Sistine Chapel ceilings. your hand on my face. the laundry. will the asteroid care to read the difference? no history book can dwarf tomorrow. here and there are only ever words to fill the dark.