This campus, this hill, is now a foggy ghost land. The universe is shut out tonight. I can now have my blurry intimacy with the immediate acre. Happy zombies are heard chattering down the hill, into the parking lot. No sound escapes into the atmosphere. Lambent, locked university buildings that I wander lonesomely among, you are glorious and murderous on a foggy night! Desolate relics of daytime productivity are no protection from nighttime ghouls. Surprising architecture lurks in the fog: courtyards, terraces, sunken, raised, hidden, circular, landscaped, staircased, immaculately laid out but incomprehensible under this shroud. Deliberate staging ground for an invasion of body-snatchers. Large red glows light the drifting fog. Everyone else on Earth is dead and buried here. Yet I expect to spy a train hissing slowly through the interstices of these lifeless buildings.

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