p o r e = programmable orbits revolving empty
the sun sparkles on the solar panel array. like a million diamonds, a million stars. inside, a blank train schedule drifts aimlessly and weightless through the empty cabin. all the screens are blank and silent. the occasional click on of some piece of machinery breaks the silence. disruptes the sun coming up over the northwestern edge of the blue green globe outside the window. suddenly one screens flickers on. and though the overhead audio, my song stutters through the static. the song of broken toys that i sing standing on my couch, open palms pressed against the ceiling of my broken apartment.
a series of clicks and whirs and one by one the other screens come to life. the tracking has begun. through the atmosphere. through the bomber squadrons, through the rain and the barbed wire. through the smoke and white noise that my life has become. i smell something electrical burning and lower my arms. its then i notice the blank watch on my coffee table has hands and numbers again. and the second hand is moving. i begin to cry.