ALONG

the earth slinking past
out of rhythm
contrary to the illusion of
days and numbered days
what we've often suspected -
that the constellations
are pinpricks in a paper curtain -
like the field trips we took to the gymnasium in elementary school...
a bobbing black baloon kept sucking the line shorter
and from inside we could tell it must be amazing
- a different sort of place -
because the entrees were silent but for ooohhs and aaahhs.
they were staring into the paper abyss trying to count the billions of flourescent twinkles.
and thats what fools us
when we notice the earth,
notice that it jerked a little to the left just then
we look up to measure the shift
and discover that the stars are painted
exactly where they were
and the only meter, our entropy,
has already recovered.
i cant put it down as i travel
the night sky doesnt keep a steady hand on me.
these nights tho,
its been raining.
so im wrapped in that black paper curtain,
wrapped up dark and sensitive.
i feel the familiar jolt again and ride it like a wave
glad the stars are not out to wink at their joke.
i put my palms to my nose and suck in wet air.
it is my place that smells like home
it is my place.
oct 19th 2005