picking out constellations from the car window
look, there’s orion. i can barely see the three dot belt
beyond the reflection of my own face.
is that the big dipper? i can’t tell
because streetlights and streetlights
parade by. how dare you waltz past, sir, when i’m
clearly listening to music in 4/4?
light upon light,
star, eyes, lamp,
sword, window—
star?
that lies (incidentally) in the cold embers.
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