There is a building whose guards are doors, men pressed into wood years ago; they cannot open or close themselves. Uniforms splinter what Iran calls their service, a surface that cannot tolerate any more water.
Parcels of ash rain on cloudless days when things are dreams.
Feel floors of red promenades; faith twitching limbs inched distances finding refuge in dollar-veiled walls.
Traveling from San Francisco to Singapore several times a year, Craig McHugh ’80, president of Creative Labs, breaks up the 18-hour flight by donning headphones and listening to tunes on his MP3 player.