He passes by, the meteor I've been conditioned to wish upon, with a brightness blackening all else— the memory trails long turning colors that never existed— I whisper in a vacuum Damn you and curse this universe: eyes automatic as vaporous planets blindly orbiting, fringed with unfeeling black half moons face grave through lack of gravity, nothing holding cheek to lip— diffuse new laws spread distance veins instantly ancient, dry canals from which even the ice has evaporated space collapsing between white rib galaxies, folding in on itself once, twice, 4.5 trillion times