A circle of streetlight glitters along the northern edge of the invisible bay. A lone strip of pallid cloud hems the horizon. Shadow islands, cloaked in trees and stone, loom black on black in the unlit morning. Snow is on the way.

* *

I have been reading Lucille Clifton and John Updike. Tom is reading Roberto Bolano. Paul is reading E. L. Doctorow. James is reading Philip Roth. His girlfriend is reading bell hooks. His best childhood friend is reading an appliance repair manual. I can't stop thinking, What magic! How I love them all.

* *

The doll house smells of toast and butter. The little cat, silhouetted in the window, watches the tree limbs quiver.

* *

No one sits on the park benches. No one waits for the bus.

* *

"these failures are my job" --Lucille Clifton