But who shall dwell in these worlds, asks Kepler,if they be inhabited? Not my girls in double-sided tape. They will wait as God has waitedsix thousand years for an observer. Then again,this wasn’t Kepler’s vision. He never guessedthe lack of overlockers, synonymouswith luxury, or the decline of fingerswilling to hold the needle straight. Thesewere original & disquieting possibilities, Carlexplains. Now, there are so few in thismythic arena onto which we’ve projected the hopesof January & July—the days & eveningsso few dress for. And the girls? Beautifulthey may be, but they can’t afford thiscertain implication of intelligent design. That’s why,once the tents collapse, all that remains isspace, the memory of what passed through it.____T.A. Noonan is the author of several books and chapbooks, most recently The Midway Iterations (Hyacinth Girl Press, 2015), Fall (Lucky Bastard Press, 2015), and The Ep[is]odes: a reformulation of Horace (Noctuary Press, 2016). Her work has appeared in Reunion: The Dallas Review, Menacing Hedge, LIT, West Wind Review, Ninth Letter, Phoebe, and others. A weightlifter, artist, teacher, priestess, and all-around woman of action, she is the Vice President and Associate Editor of Sundress Publications.