I point my finger at the moon, it starts to spin and I smile,

remembering the movie. The stars are happy tonight. Air

seeps its way into my lungs and for the first time in a long

time, I breathe. Space and time stop, gravity quiets the

children who are playing in the Ozone, the planets turn to

face the stage, Saturn removes her headband from yoga,

Pluto jumps over into the seat beside her as Mars and Earth

join them. Venus rushes in, late as usual (a last minute shave),

sits with a sigh of relief to finally be on time. Mercury and

Jupiter follow suit. Neptune sits to the left of Saturn, it was

a tough day for Neptune and she needed some emotional

support. Uranus and Saturn had been fighting since the start

of time (impersonation debates) and Neptune was sad because

they all used to be best friends. Neptune was too polite to say

so, but she was glad Uranus didn’t show up. Another fight

would ruin the concert. Unlike usual theaters, the lights were

already dimmed and off completely. Sun was working sadly and

was too busy to see the show. I bring my finger down and Moon

stops spinning. I bring my hand up again and point at the stars,

who all gather with excitement in a circle. Closing my eyes, I take

another breath and let a song come to mind. But this time, no song

comes. What? I’m supposed to orchestrate the universe, and I can’t

think of a single song that would work? I look behind me. Saturn

shakes herself, don’t look at me, I don’t know, she seems to say.

I look at both of my hands now, pointed toward the empty stage in

front of me. No music. No song. How do you do this, then? The

galaxy looks at me and for some reason I have no response. “I wish-”

I start to say, but nothing follows. The audience looks at me and I

look back and I try not to cry, a tiny being in a space suit cannot

possibly do this. I wad up into a ball and cry anyways, the tears floating

slowly away. Saturn gets up and shuttles over to where I am, sinking into

the lightyear beside me. “Amature!” You’re an amature, Jamie, you’ll

always be an amature. Not professional. Not up there with the big dogs.

I cry and wrap my arms tighter around my knees, surrounded by my tears

now, the other planets starting to get angry as well. “Dammit, Jamie,

why can’t you ever remember shit? Start acting like an adult, you’re such a

little kid.” Even the moon looked disappointed in me. The stars followed

eachother to the other end of the sky, they wanted to perform again so badly

for the first time in a long time, and I ruined it for them. All because I couldn’t

think of a song. I wanted to show everybody that I could actually do this, I could

actually do something amazing, something I could be proud of.