Happy, I notice everyday,
with gratitude you haven’t 
left like you’d promised. 

Today as you stir the salt 
caramel syrup into coffee, light 
rays breach Mercury, strike bright

radiographic violet-blue hues
that reach us as the image of
our raging red sun. 

This morning, Sze, the Poet Laureate sings—
hearkening to last night. The play 
on distance in Arcturus broods me.  

Arcturus remote, reaches beyond 
to kiss autumnal earth, and you roll away. 
I can’t touch your shoulder. 

I’m trying to reach you. 
You emerge with Samsonite bag, dressed 
to go, two shades of eyeshadow, just so.  

Far-out babe—! but wait, 
you never wear makeup, or visit 
a public bathroom, without a plan. 

I’ve shined down on this home of azure
for two years. Now, I cannot trust 
your hues when you leave.