Baying of hounds in the cold dead of night. A dream of sleep. A child’s cry. Other people’s children. Other people’s pets. Wake to sirens, car alarms, bird cries. The lives of others impressed upon us. As a boy, I dreamt of racing cars, never the crash, only the speed. Now I think only of distance and never coming home. I never dreamt of you with child. I never thought you’d have a daughter without me. Lives leak through windows, peeping telescopes. This street’s a cosmos, orbits and echoes, the mocking squalls of our mission*’s failure. *Two lone survivors, a million earths colliding.