City days densely flat.  I decide
to leave.  So many interviews
for love object, I grow tired
discussing my experience on the job. 

The leaving is a climb to where pinions
branch for a better view of the country’s
other side.  Liquid hot whirl.  
Microscopic bits of iron drip torture
from the atmosphere.  Like a planet
newly discovered in the Milky Way
that orbits so close to its sun star
one year passes every twenty-nine hours.
Love object interviews continue.
I don’t get the job.
Too late.
The sun star tugs slightly.  The planet
wobbles.