The stars,

Like headlights,

On the New Jersey Turnpike,

Stuck in constellation traffic.

The moon whispered my name

As I stood peering over of our

Mother Earth’s edge.

I climbed the tallest tree, rotting

From the inside to reach her

Extended arm.

I swung from her stars as

She showed me how to

Hold the tides in my hands.

I looked in her tired eyes,

As the smog from the city below hung like

Sweet nothings between us.

And she held me, within her broken craters

While we watched the world end.