I stepped outside long ago
if only to step some more.

This cool wind
so unlike Florida.
A welcoming to
embrace.

It'll be gone far too soon.

My neck finally tires
hanging like a bowling ball
tied and held
to one most old
and weary rubber band.

My eyes come up
on a night everyone knows.
We all have a color
coating our pupils.  Mine are blue
and guilty of ogling
even if this common sight grows
sadder and sadder
until it becomes
truly sad.

Many bright dots
freckling the sky--
and what body isn't
without imperfections?
--so much ours
so many.
Too many.

Those builders
of our own time
those without grasp
of selflessness
have such themselves.

Stinging night's veil
both by presence
and prominence.
with naught subtlety.

They shine beyond all
that have ever shone.  
Illuminating
glaring and blinding.

We are not so receptive
down in the dark earth
where neon signs pollute our eyes
until the sun dusts it away
only so we cringe
and close them again.

What then can a satellite show?