1999 Monument 2 I smoke when I come out here. I smoke because otherwise there would be no ending. How would I know when to leave? When I'm too cold? When I'm hungry? Tired? Lonely? It could be days, and I would be stranded here. When I flick away my cigarette, I leave. Monument 1 My monument is a peninsula thrust into the ice. The ice reminds me of space shuttle views of Earth's veiny cities. Spines of light: cracks in the surface connecting one bright node to another. It's different in the day. Its majesty lost. My monument. Simile to a destroyed, rotting city of old. Even the simile crumbles before me. There is a chamber in my monument. From its external dimensions I estimate it to be the size of a small truck. The lights have turned off just now, and looking up, my monument disappears into the starless void. One day I will cut the lock to the chamber and venture in. One day. Sirens now call, but not for me. Emergencies in every direction. My monument is my sanctuary. When I die, please bury me anywhere but here. My monument must not become my tomb.