Above our heads always. Duck into an alleyway, crawl into a bunker, it is there. Pervasive, A curvature, The illogical umbrella, Top Sheet. Neighborhood of stars. Our projection screen, warped canvas. We insist on credibility. What the hell is it doing there, overtaking all else, ignoring our demands and prayers, God’s voice visual and mute? Heavy above us, a reminder of our date with dust, we as dust, despite the rain.