i'll be home someday, just in one week, dry up your tears if you start to weep, and sing this lullaby to yourself

It's like escaping a hot, bright room for the serenity of a city at night, covered in snow.
People eliminated. A carpet of silence
for taxies to whisper across.
The world becoming
a pleasant dream of itself. The itch
of want smoldering to life on skin. Memory sends
a chill vanishing between vertebrae.
It's New Year's Eve. Hail the Calendar!
As if clocks will pause for a moment
before reloading their long rifles.
Years are tinyfreckles on the face of a century.
Where is the constellation we gazed at each night
Through a bill rolled so tight the first President los his breath
as our eyeballsliterally unraveled? I am alone
in the rectangular borough in the observatory,
where even fire trucks can't rescue
the arsonist stretching his calves in my brain.