Ending

I don’t mind things ending so much as how they end, whether or not it’s their time, who might be at fault or at least inadvertently culpable. It’s a day ending in “y,” ending with not enough why, or at least not enough to satisfy whatever focus I can find in a sea of dizzying distractions.

The words "Lights out" spray painted in white against the dark colored base of a support pillar for overhead Central Freeway lanes in San Francisco, California.

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