Scott H. Stoller

(after DeLillo)

He felt they shared everything,

over some remote distance,

hours spent living alone

in a radically altered plane of time,

in brief scenes, a guard at the door,

the way a room can seem to slide by on a track,

behind a film's characters, ourselves beneath

the running thoughts, the dim images,

the way we're mesmerized by a slowing of motion,

by depths that just don't seem to be possible,

by how everyone forgets the killer's name.