THE MAILMAN.

Tonight as you walk out into the stars, or the forest, or the city; look up, as you must have looked before love came—before love went, before ash was ash. Look at them: the city’s mists, the winters. And the moon’s glass, you must have held once in beginning. That new moon, you must have touched once in the waters, saying, “Change me.” All I want is to be more of what I am.