From A Spaceport

  
It is a spaceport
where we found love.
With its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
A sky above.
Always some kind of sky above.
Kill me when there is no longer
some kind of sky above.
But we lived there still
with its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
With its imported fruit,
monitored air,
and industrial hangers
bringing in the pollutants
from the men of Earth.
In all that is sick.
In the failure and necessity
of our species
we found love.
We found the one necessity
that still survives
in the words, attention, and
glances of the other.
We found the glances of the
other
and the hum, that one long
hum
of everywhere, every moment,
molecule, and memory.

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