a glass of sipping whiskey
a piece of toast
a night sky
minus stars
in a city
with countless millions
awake
the sound of laughter
of a woman
across the courtyard
to a joke told
in a language
I don’t understand
this is how
the world should end
if one could script it
in a hand
that could still hold
a pen
our lives
the long
the short
all too brief
and heaven
so very far
away