On a flat roof
Facing the night canopy
There is the moon
Far off
Keeping her distance
She leaves you alone
With a cathedral dome
Not made of human hands
There is you
The room of indigo in bloom
Not even a star
To dot the darkness
You remember a dream
Falling through space
Terrifying turns
Around planet curves
Infinite whorls
Of ink pots
Of tumblespots
You pick your way
Through dim-lit paving
Up the stairs
Against the railing
And closer still
To that flawless coverlet
Of troposphere
And stratosphere
And mesophere
And thermosphere
And exosphere
We are not here