What The Last Evening Will Be Like

You're sitting at a small bay window in an empty café by the sea. It's nightfall, and the owner is locking up, though you're still hunched over the radiator, which is slowly losing warmth. Now you're walking down to the shore to watch the last blues fading on the waves. You've lived in small houses, tight spaces— the walls around you kept closing in— but the sea and the sky were also yours. No one else is around to drink with you from the watery fog, shadowy depths. You're alone with the whirling cosmos. Goodbye, love, far away, in a warm place. Night is endless here, silence infinite.