Watching The Stars Without You

by Toddicus

I am still
humbled and feel small
when I see the stars-
Those tiny lights that are
so big
like bumbling elephants
and cresting whales.

I know them all by now,
I know their husbands and wives,
their homes, their demeanor.
I know their numbers
like a great computer would.

I watch them alone, you see,
and I am so small! I am
a dot.
They can see me too:
A multitude of teeth
and arms and hair,
a red, pumping pulsar
signaling, wishing we
were picnicking together in
a star nursery.

I remember lying on my back
in deep fields in Indiana
(where there were no lights)
and counting smooth satellites
as they scraped by stars,
pushed through the Milky Way and
rarely, piercing a lumbering green comet.

I want to put those stars
between my fingers and
gently squeeze the warmth from them,
let them move through my arms
and into my heart,
my own little star.

You should have called me.
I can count the stars.

One Response to “Watching The Stars Without You”

Matt Lamson

July 10th, 2007 at 6:58 pm

I love this one! “I know their husbands and wives,
their homes, their demeanor.” That’s it right there.
I would have called…