(revised on 6/21/16)
in Astoria I can see the stars
pinpricks of light
I think I can call them ‘pretty’ but ‘gorgeous’ is too heavy a word
I’m uneasy and I don’t like that
where have I been transported to?
but I thought I was in love with travel.
a blank page frightens me
I somehow write
I’m somehow inspired
2:30 a.m. — write
in Astoria the sky is clear and someone nice points out Jupiter to me
then I will go home and I will write this and promptly forget the beauty.