Red White and Blue
The boy– the man, really–
Ascended the ladder to the roof
To gaze at the stars above,
Their shapes twirling in endless orbit
Dancing the traditional dances of their distant countries.
But the girl could not gaze at the stars, though they shone clearly in the foreign sky.
She could only stare at him–
His innocent, slightly scruffy face
The way his cheeks flushed red to match
The roof tiles on which the two now perched.
The boy– talking endlessly–
Pointed out how the galaxies aligned
The same crystals in the same sky,
Viewable from every rooftop in every place.
How they burned bright white, nearly outshining their sister, the moon.
But the girl could not focus on the diamond sky
She could only stare at his dazzling teeth of pearls
That illuminated her world with each word.
The boy–finally pausing–
Scooted closer to share the cobalt blanket with the girl,
Whose cheeks alone flamed hot enough to keep her warm.
She thought she glimpsed a constellation in his nebulous blue eyes,
Perhaps the lion of Leo clutching poor Thisbe’s veil,
Or the harp of Lyra picking its mournful melody.
She listened to him speak, not so much comprehending the meaning
So much as the sound– the accent, really
She thought she heard the word airplane make its way lazily across the indigo ether
Reminding her of the morning’s immanent arrival
And her fated departure.
The boy– shouting eagerly–
As a shooting star crossed the scene,
Bursting open like the fireworks she watched every Forth of July,
Showering the pair in sparks of red, white and blue
Each spark a performer gracing the stage for the final act,
Bright but fleeting.
The girl– the woman, really–
Missed the shooting star.
She was too busy looking helplessly at the boy,
The man, really.
The dream of whom faded quietly into the cosmos
To join countless others, glistening beautiful but tragic.