Anti-Physic 5: Bradburying

"When I stand with this silence
between us all, we are still never here --
and then I move and your whole world
shifts, and there you are.  We were."
                                              -- Tom Mars

and he had told her that he loved her, out here
between the valley of the shadow of dead twin
suns and the petrified web of the tinfoil
rocketship's silver scaffold, here, with the
wind snapping into the cult and bolt of them
and they were lead, precious pewter parachuted
across the little lakes of mercury like so many
silvered fishes smeared on sound  Going
their own separate ways together  The
wind weaved a momentary pyramid of sometimes over
them  They breathed like partime pharaohs
disfigured as so many lovely paradoxes, holding
back the frenchblue gaseous
night with the infamous electric lights of
there own selfish suckled selves, especially
right here in this nubended yellow room of
a world, jaundiced by the naked raw bulbs
of stars and the disappointment of crushed
cigarette lives  A kind of Autumn came for them and
the cadmium ground was lost leaves of foreign sands, out
here between the last light and their starship,
their thoughts caterwauling into
the limestone dusk of an alien world's
amphitheatre of the sensual, licked in its
familiar percussions, she had walked laughing
away.