It's stark on the main, relieved in the buildup. Heights to fit one edge to the curve. A matched set by the sheer. The impression one gets of forklifts, or the importance of Houston. Semi-enclosed metal shed.
Phone calls on the outbound.
For six days I was the Far East, bewildered by the trophies. So long on the bluff, staring into history's blue, an indifferent crush caravels so many years, the simplest grasp of lag. I look up past the defining pivot, and drape this moment inseparable. Restraints in the icy reaches, standing in depots, resetting night's watch. Symphony tonnage profitable sharecaster.