Purposes

When the sun sets, flecking clouds with diaphanous light and birds whistle daytime’s last summer psalms, we call it night. We’re moonbathing and Sunny’s features are inlaid with glamorous silver-blue patines. We’ll reawaken soon, our time is measured in assignments, not in hours, days or even seasons. Responsibility is a villain of our own devices. You can run from it, bolt your door against it, only to find it’s right there - in back of you - smiling like a tiger or a parent. Unfortunately, the university isn’t a hotel. It’s more of a competition, like those survivor shows. We’ll enjoy the moonlight, for a few, laconic moments, for it seems to possess a sweet power to cool and calm, but soon our purposes will call, irresistibly, and we’ll return to the performance. . . Merriam Webster: laconic: brief to the point of seeming rude.