World of Contradictions

The coffee is still hot, the glass
melted.  Vibrations of evidence
everywhere.  Are you ever
going to tell me what we are?

I'm having problems
taking this apart.  Why
do these pieces look familiar

like a puzzle in the dark?

Why are our faces emitting
cries of emotional stress even
when we're sleeping?

If anyone needs me
I'll be walking the hill
where you last remembered

the position of each star,
a map where they died.
Time ticking on both sides

like a child shaking
a stone in a jar.