I pour a blush of wine

into my housemate’s glass.

Orange tiles & succulents in jars.

Rolling through sulfur is hard

when you’re stuck in other muck.

There can be too much adrenaline

stim. As an example, what will we call

summer when it’s more than four months long?

Yesterday, I thought I saw my

dead friend at the depot: black Docs,

leggings, two ribbons of hair falling

from undercut. Our friends are counting on us.

I don’t mean a lonely medical droid. I’m talking

before Alderaan’s demise. I wonder if

there’s guilt in hyperspace. I already know

the answer: in-game & at that market a sonic

imploder detonates my mouth.