The twinkling stripes of silver hover
above the midnight blue waves,
which would have reflected celestial objects
had there not been the signature ribbon
of fog covering the majority of the sky.

The stripes shoot up,
disappearing confidently into the unknown.

There is a solid structure
in that ribbon,
just like the solid concrete under me.

Fog hides the brilliance of those shooting lights,
keeping them from displaying their power.

But really, the sparkling reaches above everything,
distracting from the pounding music,
the loud cars,
my aching feet,
becoming part of the stars,
carried with the airplane
headed east.