Three Stars, Banished from their Galaxies, Explode in Deep Space
So the universe itself practices the art of exclusion.
From the bed of my truck, sixteen miles from the nearest stoplight,
I am without companionship but feel
anything but alone — a part of me mesmerized by fireflies
winking in and out between hickory branches
and their more constant cousins, so far beyond.
And it may just be the beer, but gradually the stars flicker in synch
with the stridulation of the crickets. Somewhere,
millions of light years away, someone sees
a black void overhead, bereft of stars
because their galaxy told their sun It’s not you, it’s me
so long before their life began. Imagine
how lonely it must be
if they lack lightning bugs.