The Aftermath by Richard Garcia
The aftermath arrived uninvited, without retinue or precedent.
Gray sunlight was gradually suspended. Stars formed in cliques,
giggling, carrying on. Cosmic rays continued to probe unabated,
as the aftermath remained uninvited. Several numbers piled
on the couch, but added up to nothing. Blame the aftermath.
Single-windowed souls were admitted, some bringing gifts of
pomade. Tiny sandwiches were served, each of related interest.
Low-grade voluptuousness eventually passed into sleep. The
aftermath sat in a corner. No one spoke to it. The nerve.