there are moments, driving, where i just want to stop and look at the sky. the stars, they're clearer here or here or here than they were where i grew up, or where i stay now.

i want to stop and just look. i want to go to the nearest houses and bang on doors and say god damn do you see that sky? do you see how lucky you are to have that?

i keep on driving.

driving until i come back to my apartment. on the sidewalk in front of our building i stop and stare up.

i dont know stars or constellations or which planets are there tonight with their unwavering unflickering light.

i just know it's endless and its clarity cuts through to me.

i want a house in the middle of the country, back behind some trees.

wooden floors and a deep leather sofa.

a screened in porch.

dark colored rooms.

and her.

her, there, with me, on the quilt in the yard looking up at the stars. looking up, together, as we talk.

as i tell her about the graduation party, when i sat next to the bonfire, watching my classmates stumble around, drunk, watching them laugh, watching them play on the monkey bars.

i sat there and looked up, through the wires of the power lines and saw a satellite move across the sky.

it was high and steady and straight in the optical ollusin caused by so much distance.

i've never seen a satellite since, i will tell her, as we lay there together.