wish upon a star, a star
fly up into that dark velvet sky
join your hands with the star-people's hands
and wish upon a star, a star

seventy three wishes, granted for you
or maybe- just given, by the star-people's hands
ride up upon a star in the sky
whirl in deep space and watch the world fly

but oh- don't wish too oft on a star
the star-people's hands might pull you away
and take all your gifts, a reciept in the bag
and tell you goodbye, it's been such a good time

soon you won't know the star-people at all
except in your dreams, on some summer's nights
the sky opens up and you see their bright faces
wish, they will say- and become one of our stars.

Give me an overcast day over any other.
Give me a day so dreary that the sun
is completely blocked out. So that I am not
blinded by the ultra violet rays
I can’t repel, due to my deformed
eyes. Give me a day where I am not
deformed, when I can see with
distinction all of the color
and the green in the cemetery across
the road. Stay behind the clouds,
bright sun. So I can see the world
and not be afraid that tears will begin
to form and people will ask
whats wrong. So I will not have to explain
my deformity, and I can see
the colors in the cemetery across the road.

It was not weight or girth that made his presence heavy,
But a gravity.
He was like snow,
Out of the corner of my tiny eye,
Calm and silent and heavy, solemn.
Falling, too.
He was falling slowly.

His hands were in the pockets
Of his black jacket,
And I’d never known that to be
A mannerism of his,
Which meant he was acting.

Unfurling from him,
A long stream of steam, like the breath of a dragon.
I saw him steel willed,
Magma veined,
As powerful as I‘d always suspected,
Found hints of at the end of the fraying rope
He’d given me to hold onto.
I saw, scorching through the cracks in his skin,
Peeking through the edges of his eyes and reflecting in his glasses,
Something much bigger than he now looked,
And I released my own gray air into the winter.
The icy sidewalk burned on through the soles of my tennis shoes.

They were two minds
in contention.
Spinning--always slightly
out of sync.

But they freed themselves
from the constant clashing.
Orbiting at each's own volition.  

As they explored
these different frequencies,
their thoughts became gusts
of unrelenting wind,
spanning silently
the chasm
of their own creation.

So,
without touching
or even knowing,
each shaped the other.
Eroding and weathering
until all that was left
were two hopes coursing
in near harmony.