The Way It Goes

Something pressing under the jaw like a thumb under a dandelion head. A sound like birds flying into windows. Waves in slow succession placing one smooth stone over another. It makes a whistling click. In the distance big ships sound their hunting horns and glide through night water in pursuit of who knows what. The urine smell comes from the ice. The food smell comes from the floor. In the middle of the room a sound like dripping but no visible source. At 4:50am the power went out on my block but I could see from my window the next street was lit. It had never occurred to me before: even electricity could withdraw and sit just beyond reach. When I called the outage hotline someone asked me to put one of my parents on the phone. I hung up and went back to the window, wanting to go outside and walk to that lit block, but afraid that upon reaching it the lights would recede one more, and one more, until I lit myself on fire just to have something to read by.