la nuit dehors.

i almost feel claustrophobic, suffocated, condensed
sitting alone in the dark.
and there,
a white star in the sky,
no, blue –
no, white –
no, blue –

someone once told me that a blinking star meant it was being born.
or that it was dying.
i wonder what it would look like through a telescope?

what frigid december air;
i wouldn’t be as cold, though,
if the breeze would stop breathing on me.