80. And All This Concrete Will Someday Be Chalk
(This one's just plain weird; a stream-of-consciousness meditation in deep time. Written while riding back from a long and interesting day spent with SP full of sunshowers. Thanks, SP.) ...And I found myself staring out at the skyline as the sun set, feeling a wistful sort of emotion I had and have no name for, wondering whether it really might be beautiful on fire - "all twisted metal stretching upwards, everything washed in a thin orange haze" - and thinking about how permanent concrete was; how solid the pourable stone was once set, how it was so durable and so literally castable stone that cement mixers must hurry along on their way, lest their cargo sit still for too long and cure solid, becoming a total loss, unless you felt like going in for days with a jackhammer. So concrete can't burn, actually, any more than the stone of the hill beneath me could burn. But hillsides aren't permanent, nor even mountains, it occurred to me - "until Mount Baektu wear...