An abundant, hazy moon

peers nosily into my window

sending shadows stretching like contented cats

as they pad over to butt and rub their inky heads

against the arm flowing thoughtlessly

over the side of the bed.

And I,

sleepily stirring at their silky touch,

feel awareness trudge back into my body,

trickling down my arm

to land in the hand dangling precariously

over their spectral maws.

I swiftly rescind the appendage

back into the mattress’s circle of protection

and away from the obscure wilderness

where reflective eyes observe and condemn

and feline throats purr and growl

and retractable claws scrape and caress.

And as I lie waiting for Schrödinger

to come and call off his beasts,

I stare into the dimness and wonder

if I’m afraid of finding eyes watching me back,

or if my greater fear is that I am, in fact,

alone.

Why do we wish on falling stars?

Placing all our soccer trophies

And unsent text messages

And serotonin levels

On one little star

That isn’t having a very easy time itself

I mean, it’s not even a star

It’s just a rock

Talk about false expectations

Did anyone ever stop and think

That it probably hurts

To be propelled against an atmosphere

At 50,000 miles per hour?

Imagine your face

Pressed against the asphalt

As you’re pulled behind a drag racer

Except you’re the drag

And while you’re being towed along

Everyone’s shouting at you

“I want an Xbox!”

“I wish he’d just ask me!”

“Please let me pass orgo!”

And expecting you to do something about it

Like you’re freakin’ Santa

Did anyone ever consider

That the rock

Is too busy trying to survive

And not burn up into little pieces

To worry about all of our problems?

I mean

Doesn’t anyone realize

That the rock

Is just trying its best?

the box

she’s trapped in

keeps getting smaller

and smaller

and

the girl

can’t

fit

anymor

The air breathes in

Gathering

The scent of mowed grass

And freshly tilled earth

With the hoarded mugginess of countless nights

Wriggling against damp sheets

And craving the relief

Of rain.

The air dribbles and oozes

Lethargically

Leaking and depositing

Sultry beads of moisture

Onto my skin

And then

Stretching indolently one last time

It retires.

The reeds stand sentry

Erect and unmoving

Guarding the motionless pond

As its amber-glazed surface

Reflects the blue

Of the sky that states back

And idly wonders why

I’ve come.

The sky contemplates

Watching

As I bend over the ground

Staring intently

Before selecting a stone

Washed smooth and flat by years

Of water gently abrading its sides

In passing.

The stone sighs

Passively

Recalling the feeling

Of the cool caress of millennia

As they whittled away its being

While clouds progressed and stars died

And the stone remained enduringly

And waited.

I take my selection

Considering

The rock in my hand as I walk

Carefully over to the pond

Where I cock my hand back and

Project the stone over the water

Needing to do something

To break the stillness.