Out of the sky

So, my only story for the night is that I got off late from the movie house and then went home, cracked a bottle of very inexpensive white wine from Freddies and then proceeded to shut down lights in the house in order to get my eyes ready for the annual falling star show only to get the point where a movie, World's Greatest Dad, seemed more important to watch, thanks to the poster I see everytime I go up and down the stairs from the projection booth, a film I told my coworkers I passed up during the Hollywood Video closeout, one that they said was great and that I was a fool to have passed up on.

Well, I watched it as well I could knowing that the stars were falling and that the sky was clear and that lights were off in the alley behind the house. Each and every year I say that I am going to go somewhere dark and city free and see that grand pass of stars falling through the comets tails but do I do it? No, I continue to find a dark and quiet spot in my backyard that looks promising and then look up into the sky, look for the really bright ones to go flashing by, to see if the big one, the truly big ones, rate this neck craning activity that I have been indulging in for almost all the years I have been here in the Pac Nor West.

I have to wonder, now that it is the next day and nobody seems to have watched or cared about the Perseids if you even bothered to watch them this year, if your brother in law was in town, if he squired you, escorted you out to that local ball field to watch the show. I wonder if your man could be bothered, or, if all that was too much to ask, if you woke up and stared at the ceiling, applying your superhuman powers and looked through the roof and the trees and the cloudcover and took the sight that darlin I would have happily shared with you whether I was rich or poor, young or old, healthy or infirm.

Somehow I think we both were looking up at the sky, wondering where the big ones were at, wondering if the really BIG ONE, the love of our life, the real COMET, the REAL shooting star of our lives somehow passed us by while we were inside making popcorn, making excuses, making up for all the ragged sadness that passes for love in a world full of folks who keep that love held ransome, ransome until they realize that people's hearts about as easy to hold onto as those shooting stars we saw fall through the night sky.

Your WHMB