you always hated gaps in information --
the “intangible,” you muttered --
huddled there, numbers and figures cascading into
dances you could touch, mapping (starless) constellations

but what if i showed you

those abstract beings you so abhor
and you liked them?
what if i told you the best air resides at lakeside 6 am
not in the cramped quarters of living rooms

that ecstasy isn’t grade As and strained smiles
it spreads among brisk walks and hot meals on cold days and
catching your breath by that shop you used to frequent

and that the moon looks so much more lovely
rising over sleepy towns than it looks on your astronomy report