in a universe away
an alternate me
is also forever
writing about
an alternate you

and in the universe next
the same

will there be a day
when i put down the pens
rip finger-pads off keyboards
and, depending on my celestial address
bask in the moonlight
of our moon
or three moons
or eight moons?

only when the alternate you
and the alternate me
are star-crossed
no longer
and it's
our helium and hydrogen
spontaneously combusting
in every night sky
north this galaxy
and the one after that
and the one after that
and the one after that