What will happen now? This fluke isn’t the show. Those late night pools that we broke into, from roofs we watched below. It’s a tiny pinch effect and the change in the seams. It feels like a lasting note and everything is pristine. Is this some kind of joke? Because it’s not what it should be. And it’s kind of getting to me. These wheels will roll themselves and these pictures are their own. And I have my place, I’m a moving part and bolt. It feels like this will close up shop and the landmarks are a lie. If you need to find me soon raise the signal toward the sky. I’ll be wandering about while all of this passes by and there’s nothing left in sight. It’s weird when it gets fixed and all the pieces fall together. Confiding in your hope just like the promises that you kept. When the wheels fall off you’ll have some stories and no regrets. So let’s make some bets.