Stars

Stars and fire win. Songs echo off of hot brick like the last remnants of summer, now past. Your words reach inside; they take prisoners; they hold tight, then unexpectedly, release and ebb into tear-streaked memories. You dream on your feet while we passively watch. Outside in the dark, the lights of silent trains flash through the openings in the trees. The song ends, the doors open and we spill out into the night. We stand and watch as the moonlight stretches across the water, flowing toward us until it finally crashes against the shoreline. I think it's time to leave.

I don't believe we've met.

Aren't we the lucky ones?