In the moonlight the word hits the side of my face;
much like the spit that just exited her lips.
Where can such things coincide besides under the stars?

Oh the stars. You have one and I have one too.
Not just one but more like a whole constellation.
That one there, that's mine.
That one there is yours.
Due to where yours lies, you are insufferable.
They all are.
They all are insufferable.

They all have these saddle bags, I imagine.
They are full of feelings, thoughts, probably an extra brain;
a few souls they may have stolen
a lot of beautiful beautiful words.
Mostly a lot of pain.
A compass, and a tackle box for certain.
If the link could be made to the star then it must be right.

She licks her lips and flicks her cigarette.
My hand goes into my pocket where it's comfortable.
"Strange how that works"