Aluminum-Can CarsThe world drops out from below and my head lifts into the cloudsTo float like it has for all my life,Only this time it is for real.The window opens to views of below, and tiny aluminum-can carsWith ant-people drivers and potato-bug pets.Patchwork-quilt fields with streams of roads running past them,Then fluffs of vanilla cotton candy drop in,Slowly meandering by and saying a soft and sweet, “Hello.”As the soaring bird gets higher the view pulls back, like my camera lens doesWhen I get too close to my best friend’s face and the flash won’t go.The ant-people and potato-bug pets disappear, and all that remainsAre the glints of sunlight off aluminum-can cars.
The Stars “Come here, child.” The girl complied, shuffling her feet with a soft wish-wish-wish across the smooth wooden floor and climbing onto her father’s lap. He smelled of tobacco and dirt and wood and the outdoors, like all good fathers should. She wrapped her gangly arms around his neck and hugged him tight, as if she were to float away if she didn’t. “Look, look up there.” The girl looked, but not at where her father pointed. Instead, she turned her face up towards the wrinkled moon that was her father’s face. She could see the lights from above reflected in his warm eyes, bright with love and delight. He was old, but he never ceased to act like a boy when the universe showed him something new, as it was doing tonight. His being was alive and enthralled at what lay just outside the open window, waiting to be discovered. Now the girl followed the worn and thick finger upwards until her gaze was met by a winking of starligh