Lambs Bread
by Wulf Losee

The afternoon sunlight rings like a bell
Through the still air as the wind from the bay ceases
And our talk wanders in slow circles

We linger over coffee at the sidewalk table
But the existential brightness beckons us
To proceed up the avenues of angled rays

Approaching the long shadow of a statue
We are two figures awaiting the blue hour
On a street in The Nostalgia of the Infinite.