Watchmen: Chapter 4: Page 2.

i am two hundred and twenty-seven million kilometers from the sun.
its light is already ten minutes old. it will not reach pluto for another two hours.

two hours into my future i observe meteorites from a glass balcony, thinking about my father.
twelve seconds into my past i open my fingers. the photograph is falling.

i am watching the stars. halley's comet tumbles through the solar system on its great seventy-six-year ellipse.
my father admired the sky for its precision. he repaired watches.

it's 1945. i sit in a brooklyn style kitchen, fascinated by an arrangement of cogs on black velvet. i am sixteen years old.

it is 1985. i am on mars. i am fifty-six years old

the photograph lies at my feet, falls from my fingers, is in my hand.
i am watching the stars, their complex trajectories, through space, through time.

i am trying to give a name to the force that set them in motion