Rung by Rung
If you manage elation, in stasis it comes
The masturbation, or the newscast of a minimal bomb.
When you flee from the station, in engines that gong.
The conversation, the hesitation
Or the figure 5 gold.
If you manage vacation alone, I know I know.
To all the people in reservations of one
Asleep within dream on the carpets of dawn.
Running their fingers on the branches like arms
Whispering I know, and I will not tell
This could be the sun, or a hole in the dark.
And run by run they put out the flames.