Below the universe, there is so much more to see.
But, alas, she lies on her back, her arms stretched,
her dress a puddle of fabric. She’s trying to be
someone she’s not: a persona too far-fetched.
She can not tell the constellations apart,
but nonetheless gives stories to the stars
she keeps in her mind and feels in her heart.
She has thoughts, too, like what if the stars are just cars’
headlights? She does not know how
to solve this, so she wonders on:
I might be in trouble, then, here and now.
Maybe I should wait for dawn.
She lies silently, not trying to be anything more
than a girl with nothing to look for.