Squint Just Right

I stood gazing into what starlight

Chicago night-glare permitted.

Only the most hardy of stars penetrated

The milky smear of urban cover.

A particular stab of light

Caught my attention.

It was directly overhead

And seemed to slowly move.

I watched it until

My neck ached.

Whether or not

It truly moved

Was uncertain.

Finally, I surrendered my curiosity

And returned to

The more stable universe

Of my kitchen.

Later, when sleep should have

Overtaken me

I lay awake

Thinking of you...

Imagining your orbit

The way you move through a life

That no longer includes me.

You and that mysterious star

Merge within my thoughts.

I imagine your movement

But can not discern

Your orbit.

But I am not a space man.

I am a mud hound

And being such

Must train myself

To avoid looking up.

It leads to frustration

And despair.

Besides

Mud is interesting, too

If you squint just right.