I have never lived in the countryside or close to untouched nature.

The fog rolls in on cool mornings but it magnifies the sound of the freeway.

The horn of a nearby train and early morning greeting.

Motorcycles always peeling out of my suburban neighborhood at an obnoxious hour.

I only seem to notice it in the middle of the night.

Truthfully, I do not hear it all anymore.

***

City lights reflect downward when clouded over.

When clear, I can see the moon and handful stars.

A pitiful amount like coins scavenged from the couch.

Expected but somehow always less than thought.

An uncompleted drawing that the artist fell asleep on.

Constellations that exist in the mind but fail to spill onto paper.

***

I have discovered a different type of star instead.

An artificial star heralded by the scream of metal wings.

Rattling the windows with their strength.

Streaking across the black sky in an array of colors.

Omens of travel and change.

Following fated paths just like all the other stars.

***

Wishing on these stars works just the same.

A shooting star that has beginning and end.

Finding its own way in the world like me.

Crossing paths with me like a friend.

Racing across the sky much faster than the typical star and matching my pace.

Perhaps this artificial star is exactly the perfect one for me.