|Night Sketch (standard:poetry, 337 words)|
|Author: Finn McKool||Added: Oct 24 2000||Views/Reads: 2061/2||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Me on a front porch|
Night Sketch “Where are the stars tonight?” he asked his astronomy professor. He sat there, on his front porch, at 2:30 am. She said, she couldn’t take the distance this time. She said, she wasn’t in love with him anymore. She loved him but wasn’t in love with him anymore. He hadn’t liked the distance either. It was hard only seeing her once a week, or so, if he was lucky. But, God, being alone is easier when you aren’t alone. Because, you knew out there, miles away, was someone who cared. Now he was really alone. Again. He took another drag of his Camel, and watched the exhaled smoke curl into a beautiful cloud on the damp night air. He looked into the night sky, and saw nothing. Just one big cloud. “Where are the stars tonight, professor?” He didn’t know if he had truly loved her, or not. He didn’t know much anymore. He knew he had cared for, her and that he missed her. He knew he was tired of double checking himself, and analyzing every motion and emotion, and motivation. He knew he was tired of making sure. He knew he was tired of asking, “Do you really love her? Do you really love?” He knew he was tired. He knew he couldn’t see the stars. “Where or the stars, professor, where the hell are the stars?” He knew what stars were. Stars were billions of lovers. They were great masses of energy caused by atomic reactions that could take a billion years to ignite. He knew what stars were, he’d learned in Astronomy. He knew he couldn’t see any stars. “Where are the fucking stars!” he screamed. He knew he’d been replaced. He knew things were too fast. He knew he was alone again. He knew he couldn’t see the stars but desparately wished he could. He flicked away his cigarette. The butt winked red on the black pavement, like a cool, red, star. It was the only star he’d see tonight. Tweet
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