Sixty Six . . .

Chosen Star

by Stormcat

Don't call, or call

today. This longing cannot be satisfied

by your presence nor by your absence.

I'm so cold. I hide in bed under three

quilts and two blankets and one sheet. The cell

phone gives me away by not ringing. Continuously

I check for signal bars and battery bars. Always

present "be my love cause no one else can end

this yearning" close my eyes to allow the vision

This time it’s animals. Hmmm . . . first time

that's happened. I wanted it to be your face

An owl an eagle an owl a hawk a groundhog

what's this? Come closer. Oh! A pony.

A wild pony. With a winter coat. Its mane hanging

over its eyes like too long bangs. It seems to be

shedding

Tears without moisture.

Everything dies, even the stars.

I wonder. Do living stars have a funeral when one dies?

How many realists are disappointed when they realize

that their realism isn't real! Must we suffer

the consequence of a thousand ordinary dreams

such so that one genius dream can be realized?

No . . . and Yes

I forgive you a thousand times over for

not realizing that I have met a hundred thousand

stars and chosen only you to love.

How could you know? Or more to the point

how could I tell you without sounding self serving?

Or even more, it doesn't matter how many you were

chosen over if you yourself don't

choose

this

one

bright
star.

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