Champagne in a Teacup

with you

a promise to me

we were using before

on my feet

while I think of you always

sitting alone

"What do you know about astronomy?" There was a pause while I listened to his breathing coming softly over the cell phone pressed to my ear. "Just because I am a scientist doesn't mean I know stuff about everything that is considered scientific." "I get that--but what do you know about astronomy?" "I suppose I know enough." "Enough. Right. Fine--what do you believe about the stars? When you were a kid did you think they were magic? Do you still secretly wish on them?" I thought of the times he'd kissed his hand before pressing it to the roof of a car when driving through a yellow light. The way I had told him to wish on fallen eyelashes. Did his wishes apply to stars? These soft lights in the sky, connecting us through the distance, were they also carries of his dreams and wishes the way they carried mine? I had wished for him many times. I had wished for his love and his touch. I still believed the stars, eyelashes, dandelions would carry my wishes to him. I still believed that when they time came, he would be showered in an onslaught of wayward dandelion wisp wishes and the caress of a thousand eyelashes. But for now, I watched a falling star and wished for his belief.  "I wish for things. But I don't wish on stars. The so called 'falling stars' we see are actually just things burning up in the atmosphere. I carry desires in me like everyone else. Anyone who wishes on falling stars is burning their wishes." This stops me. Those of us who wish on falling stars watch our hopes, dreams, and desires burn. I had just watched his belief burn up in the atmosphere. My stomach turns. I know that nothing will come of wishing. So I ask, "do you ever wish for me?"

I watched him juggle and I understood this. I understood that my love was his hands, always there, always catching, moving, and tossing. His love was the pins. Up in the air, falling, rising, always in motion. We moved together, we relied on each other, and it continued to deepen in meaning. If I messed up, his love would fail. If he messed up, my love would continue existing, but without purpose, just open, reaching palms.  I watched in terror as he juggled. I held my breath knowing this motion couldn't last.  I waited for the juggling to end.