Recent stirrings on my mind
have exhausted me,
like how the exhaust of the city
clouds my mind, leaving me in a daze
every night on the patio,
watching, waiting for the stars
to light up the universe.
I sip those stars through my straw,
and inhale the Milky Way;
Planets like black bubbles hover midway
through the plastic tube, too dark to be seen
except in the glow of patio lights
stationed like moons above my head
…a Tesla turn-on.
The night is warm, but dropping quickly
as it smokes out the skyline
between the angels and devils.
One by one, they disappear,
those lights that flickered like flies
beneath headlights of your golden Highlander,
color like the sun, transporting me home…
— The Finicky Cynic
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