stars, too, are often twinkle-eyed
with tears and their after-midnight
lights shine through windows, lights
lasting till dawn’s rising voltage
puts them out: brothers try to
commit—or do—suicide, or sisters
waste away with eating disorders:
wouldn’t it be nice if the troubles
of the world spared someone: then
we’d have miraculous ones to look on
in happy disbelief: husky ball
players lose their touch or endorsers
pale away: and the general gravel
of the cosmos, no one even notes
what becomes of that: only stars
give point lit high enough for us to
see the widespread evenness of
disaster: of course, of course,
there are thrills and kicks along the
way: and stars illuminate those,
too: we let stars get away with
plenty of roughage because we do
appreciate this focus: in their
lives we see writ large hilarity &
happenstance out of control, as with
us: and so we do submit our wishes,
our longings that rise into
recedings beyond stars to local dust
in a street sweeper: we nestle and
nudge till we get down: we dicker
with our own dicks and G’s and sip
the sweet readout of difference
into nothingness: we thank our
lucky stars for their help, but ever
more we thank our unlucky for the
low, low rhythm that holds the world
together, apparently