The Balcony Was Ill Taken Care Of,  
   And Looked A Bit Like A Forgotten    
   Storage Closet, And With Bird Shit   
    On The Floor That You Would Have    
  To Step Around. We Were Sitting On  
     A Few Mismatched Cushions (I'M     
    Making Up A Fox Companion Here,     
    Like A Hologram) Pressed Against    
  The Wall, Watching The World End,   
         Drinking Calpis water.         
                                        
      The Night Sky A Solid Gray,       
    Lighter Than The Trees On Our     
    Hill, Lighter Than The Sleeping     
    City Spilling Out Around Us. The    
        Glow Of The Fox Slightly        
   Illuminating The Mess Around Our   
   Resting Place, Not More Intrusive    
      Than The Streetlights Below.      
                                        
  And, What We Were Looking At - The  
    Intermittent Flashes Above, That    
   Would Suddenly Reveal Structure In   
   That Gray Sky. What Had Previously   
  Been A Flat Surface Now Sank In On  
     Itself, Showing Deep Rifts And     
     Bioluminescent Nebulas. And It     
         Moved, No Doubt Alive.         
                                      
    But The Next Moment, Gone Again:    
   As Abrubtly As It Disappeared, The   
    Gray Wall Was Back. An Ordinary     
           Night Once More.           
                                        
   "It'S Still Moving", The Fox Said.   
     "I Can Almost Feel It. Coming      
               Closer."               
                                        
   It Was Right, The Fox. We Listened   
      To The Crickets For A While.      
          "Yeah. It'S Fast."