Then on that same night the sun refused to set.
I was not at all amused–I told the sun so.
You shook your fists like nobody’s business.
That was a mistake.
The moon showed up with angry meteorites
and pissed-off comets, but they were no match for us.
I told them this. And I was not at all kind.
That was all it took.
The sun started to cry which began a chain
reaction until, one by one, stars took to
flinging themselves from lofty constellations.
You held out your hands.
Then I remembered, you rode the bench in sports.
As far as catching things, you were a symptom
of health. So as the universe collapsed I
did have my concerns.
But I stood by you, friend, watching you fail
over and over and over and, oh, over again.
I saluted you and I took off my hat.
Then I crossed myself
as the earth swallowed us up. Man, was I mad.
I told the earth so but you were also mad
by then, still trying to catch stars still falling.
That’s when I woke up.