Constellations of the City
Ryan Spooner

I.
     On the cusp of downtown the city lights fight for space. Some act as guides, some left on accidentally, others are never shut off.
     Together with the flicker of televisions and the glow of neon signs they form the constellations of the city.
     I drift away and imagine that each light is a beacon calling out to their heartís true love through the empty universe of the night.
     Like a million loons singing their loverís song each waits patiently for their love to conquer the distance and return in perfection.
     It is in my patient longing that my heart shatters into a million pieces, the loons silently understand.
     Lost in a moment of solitude I prepare to mend.
Each piece of my heart is filled with the smiles, laughter and tears of my true love; as each piece comes together with my mind, with my soul, memories of you come to me.
     Suddenly my heart mends finding its unity in you -whole again- I turn my light on and wait for you to shut it off and in so doing we can lay together as one.

II.
     The moon and the stars seem so unnecessary when television lights flicker in apartment windows and neon signs navigate my explorations; the sea of pavement a cruel mistress when the street lights illuminate discarded cigarettes.
     I only need your soft hand on my shoulder to send me back to a place where the moon and the stars were necessary.
     When it was all the light I needed to illuminate you- your lips, your hair, your gentleness - you.
     A moon that a million love struck loons sang to, stars that sleepy children adore, a dying flame that kept us warm.
     Added together the stars equal nothing when the constellations of the city reflect my youth.
          Or is it that the sum of the moon is all the time I need to thank for god for everything which is infinite - which is yes.
               Or maybe I just wanted you to feel comfortable naked.

III.
     In the riverís water the city seems so far away. With you in my arms- breasts exposed- fireworks celebrate an imaginary holiday.
     From now to the infinite this beach is ours- our wet bodies reaching great heights- you letting me dream of a perfect love.