August 15, 2013
the little girl lays outside,
body pressed against wet grass
in hopes of catching one of those
meteors rippling through night’s seams.
the sky is dim and clouded
by light pollution and condensation,
a thin film passing over the stars
and smudging them.
she has to squint to see them
through the factory smoke and
bright street lights,
but they’re there.
it is then that she spies
the fireball arcing across the sky,
entrails of flame clinging to a
smoldering rock
as it slingshots around the
Little Dipper.
its tail flickers and crackles,
sizzling but never wavering
as it treks across the
it moves slowly
as if stirred from a long slumber,
before being quenched by
the night’s silken darkness,
draping over it like
she blinks once – twice –
her fingernails clutching
at the grass and digging
into soil before she decides
to stay out a little longer.

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