I’ll wait for the sun to rise

It’s a triangle.

No, it’s a square. I think I can expand it into a star with four vertices. No, five.

I found a kite once. Oh, wait, that’s the same thing.

Why do I always hear about the stars? Constellations? Shapes?

It all makes no sense.

My back against the bumper, my eyes in my head, my breath in my eyes

I can only see a floating desert of black with little spots of white

And the more I try to connect the dots, the more lost I feel

The more I count, the less I see (try it)

Why do stars have to form shapes?

Why can’t they just be what they are? Light against dark? Good against bad?

Little clusters here and there, for every family in its corner of the world,

dying out one at a time, pulling apart, pulling together

For every group of persons doing something, together, good or bad

Why can’t that little dot, sitting at the corner of the sky, be every loner?

Why can’t it be me, just on my own, far away, beautiful and bright and not part of a bigger picture?

The bigger picture hurts, it always does. It makes me feel tiny.

What’s in the stars? I don’t see.

No, I’m not blind, I just told you I see white against black.

You know what, damn this night, damn Aries and Leo,

I’ve always believed clouds form more shapes than stars.

I will wait till morning

I will wait for the sun to rise

It’s more like me

Alone.