This morning he knows
that everything is in its place.
The police station is where it should be,
as is the little library,
as are the streetlights,
as are the cars that came
to their proper positions last night
and rested there.
His school is stretched out on its hill,
as it always is,
and his classroom is quietly letting itself
be carried through space
in its assigned place on the planet.
Even the pencil on his desk
hasn’t moved, hasn’t tried
to do something better for its life
other than simply lying
just where he left it.