Two days in the almost arrested cardiac
penitenciary, a dancing computer-image
course in flow/unflow, know/unknow,
coming out listening to the weather
report “Sunny and seventy-eight...for
at least two more days,” everything veiled
in clouds as his cell-phone starts to
ring, “Hello, Dad...,” like a voice from
another galaxy, forgetting for two days
all the “dones” and “beens” clothed in the
        possibility
          of “the rest is silence. “