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stork daddy
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you sit with me,
this is my primary
measure of distance.
we talk about the stars
because
for a strange moment
there seems
nothing between us
and them,
we seek to call
out the familiar
world with words.
"the stars burn out too"
they do,
across an abacus
filled with human
lives
as our lives are
filled with human breaths.
and they burn off
like wood endlessly
whittled into
a thousand statues
and then flung
open like arms.
"but all in all, they're
steady enough for us"
yes they are,
like tokyo is,
across the world
like christmas tree
lights stored in a box
or like hearing
that a road
you've taken
leads to children
being snowed in from school.
but right now,
you're the only one talking to me
the moments like flecks
from the back to the front
of your eyes,
prefacing your lips
and you're no different
than the stars,
in the sky
no matter where you move
always sending
news to meet you
news with only the slightest
imperceptible twinkling
shifting,
but who can ever reach the source
until you fling your arms
open and burn out.
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040917
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