September Poems (2023)

Starry-Eyed Boy

My starry-eyed boy: he vanishes
like the afterglow of lightning
in my peripheral vision;
when I turn
the clouds are graying obstinately
in his leave.
He's worried, he thinks I might
lose touch with gravity.

To where do thine feet tread?
Perhaps if you could tell
the difference between left and right,
you could predict your current trajectory;
as it stands,
your guess is as good as mine.