Beyond Number

Wheeling across the night sky the stars are without number in their depth and glory

much like the crackers that I ate tonight. Beyond count as I slipped them, one by one, though some had cheese, into my waiting mouth.

Barely empty it was, as cracker followed cracker. The beer could scarcely keep up with the washing down the throat with the swishing of the palate.

The stars bring their complexity and glory wheeling across the night sky— so grand, so aloof, so removed from the thousand tiny hurts and these thousand crackers.

Each a band-aid each a bruise each a mistake without number beyond counting though some had cheese.

How can you ask me to record the stars?