Spacetime slash pauses.
Totally never-in, our keyless Platonism won’t stand up as practice /
not while angles of light are brawling on taking us home.
Vaccinated, a merciless itch, what is this collapsed satori we travel into?
/ Passing thought immortalizes the X+1 “casting
of cities,” thinking past us. A true 2 minutes before
messing with ya. Why wait?