SAW PARTY

Watching stars through my window one blinks brighter than the others. I close one eye and lay still; splitting the light with the drawstring of my blinds. A satellite in the ensemble of the firmament. Moving 248*W following the orders of our system’s director.

I'd rather be a batlon, pray for pay."

When one feels content, why is it unsettling? To be sitting with bills paid, work to be done and relative progress, why do we ask, "What else could I have?" "Have" is purely a summation of a mediocre raise, a pass-time hobby or maybe some love. If the will strikes you, and you have some lingering mind-space and energy, you can always go out there and find it. Or you could always buy it (Well, you'll probably have to buy it once you find it anyway). Maybe instead of looking, one could just build with what one has. And others can come find you if it pleases them.

Night's in the city help me regard the parts that aren't human. I'm going to bed, goodnight. Finding my way to the roof to look at nothing/nothing/nothing/nothing. Solitary lights and lonely luminaries. Threading them together, making constellations. Some from stories. Some from texts. Some from printed-perforated banners, of the days of DOS with my dad. I'm making some of them up. I'm making all of this up again. My heart's on city rhythm, but my head suburban pace. Finding myself lost in this orbiting of space. But if all are truly looking at the same thing, then no one can ever be alone.

Found this empty plot. Nothing had grown there for some time. With breath of a djinn, I wished life into the soil. Installed voices of the Bard to help with emboldening this once fertile ground's spirit. Only resting; in hiding if you will. Afraid of that cold that always returns on schedule. Looming overhead were clouds as inviting as a newly made bed on an easy morning. One started by the internal clock. "On Your Own Time." That feeling was sanctuary.