first.

Sometimes the stars here are so bright I can taste them.
I feel your shoulders pressing into my back,
almost as if you were wearing this sweatshirt again.
But that's not the point.

The streetlights are motion sensored, but properly.
They turn off when I walk underneath;
God must know that I want to feel the stars.

And it all feels like a flashback,
scratchy grass, navy sweatshirt, bad hair
innocent desire (controlled, not extinguished).

the light flickers, and I wonder if you
ever stop and remember.
Remember how alone we were (as alone as I feel)
or how much peace there was.

Peace is tangible among people that seek it,
and in places where it is stored.
(Sometimes I think God bottles it up in nature just as a reprieve for us).

The stars are so bright they're loud; they're yelling.
I have so much more in store for you, they say.
Be patient.

(God stores patience up in nature, too. I'm convinced).
-6/22/08