blue silk

Last night, I was on the phone too late.
I talked outside, under a deep, starry sky. The Milky Way was a dusty stripe in the blue silk. I lay on the hood of my car.
On the other end, I heard him laugh, dry and quiet, and I reached up and trapped a star between my thumb and forefinger. For a second, I thought that maybe I could catch it, pull it down and stow it in my pocket. It seemed so close. He seemed close, too.
I got up and walked barefoot down the center of the street. As I neared the corner, I saw the moon coming up. It was huge and orange and half-full. It sailed slowly upward over the black tree line on the horizon, and I was the only one awake to watch it.

Last night, I was on the phone too late. I should have hung up an hour earlier. But my soft velvet weariness beautifully matched the blue silk sky, and my solitude matched perfectly the sound of his laughter.