A far sunset when we enter isn’t done yet when some things get as off centre as the swing set’s swaying censer. Here the landlocked grainy colour sandbox goes gray, grows a duller sunken tar. Stays till monkey bar shipwreck shadows from some ago emerge to merge on a ripped deck as dark surges. The evening hours are evening ours, and the surf is on every surface strange or estranged. Then the see-saw is severed by shade. There we see/saw things made and fade to ocean terrain— now as though never in motion or plain.