i'm throwing bait at the stars, hoping for a bite. setting traps in the milky way, squinting, hopeful. but what would i do if i caught one? stars can't give hugs, stars can't open jars, stars can't tell jokes. and where would i find a trophy case big enough?

so, i've decided that i don't want a star anymore. i'm going to sit right here on this blue planet and cry and cry and cry. i hide in my landfill of a room, chewing on my lips and trying to explain my obsession with the cosmos to my dog. he doesn't really get it but he likes it when i rub his belly.

i found a spark on earth but i got too close and i got shot backward with a blackened face and frizzed out hair. i lay back down in the snow and kept looking at the stars. so, that's what stars are for. looking at, dreaming about, describing. you can't catch and keep a star anymore than you can catch and keep the one you love.