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.