Your you comes back to you
From its night journey.
The sky air turns you over.
Locked in the exhaustion of stasis,
Your mindthoughts stuffed into the static
Box moving through space.
You have only your phonethoughts
The bus – like Charon – carries you
Ever on to the realization – like death:
You have forgotten your reader.
University looms before you,
A watertalking haven in
A firewalking world.
You are not prepared.