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the moon is an exact semicircle tonight, and orange.
the cell phone tower winks at me with perfect wavelengths of red light.
a saxophone quartet plays miles away, so loud that its melody glides through the air to my radio,
and with a press of the foot and a turn of my hand, this huge vehicle the car turns the corner precisely as i instructed it.
i park in a box of concrete and painted wood which somehow doesn't collapse.
the atoms in my shoe's rubber sole merely breath on the ground below them,
and my brain stands me upright, somehow knowing where the earth is.

here i am in this world, bombarded by light and sound,
gravity pouring down on me like a cloak,
the universe running farther and farther away from me, and me from it.

and we're just collecting, as you say,
collecting and interpreting and carrying on like robots.
what if we're all wrong?

as i hold your hat on my head to peer up at the stars,
i grasp the only thing that i know:
the way your light, your music, your mechanics
swim inside my being,
making me more than the universe because it is one,
and we are Two.