Stars and Stars and . . .

30 June 2021 Wednesday Prose Poem: pretend you’re mad

Starry starry night. You’re yanking on my heartstrings,
and making me fall — in through the out door.
Into ideas rushing toward the exit — Help,
The universe is on fire and I am standing here
with nothing in my hands to put it out.

Only visions. The distance beyond measure. Spaceships
dancing from one quadrant to the next — peeking.
Interstellar intercourse of the third and most gracious kind –
Waiting for Spock to tap on my window. Han Solo pulling
me from my sleep — are you ready?

Am I? Now that I’ve been to the stars. Wept with joy.
Visited upon ancient versions of myself and feasted on
memories soft and sensual — how do I slip back into the past,
into the great and powerful Now and render myself indifferent
to the Sirens calling from above.

Starry starry night, stop yanking my chain. Scotty’s gone home;
And Spock ain’t coming back. Leave me be. But only for a while.

I believed. In the stars and their magic. In their messages coming down to earth. In the dreams of me being among them. I waited. I got closer through books and TV shows. Through the moon landing. Felt their pull. Never doubted. People thought me a fool at times. Mad perhaps — there’s nothing out there. If there was — they would have made themselves known. And still, I waited. And I’ll wait still. Just need a break. To recalibrate my trajectory. Then I’ll be ready again.

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