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.