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.