A Sonnet for the Astral Weeks
If you step outside and are caught up
between the slipstream’s drag and starlight’s pull,
could you escape a crashing viaduct
or would you be subdued by moonbeams’ lull?
Alone but side by side we amble on,
developing our own slim, slow techniques.
At times I glance around, and you are gone
to navigate the lonely astral weeks.
So I will pause to visit Madame George,
and saunter down to Cypress Avenue.
Perhaps I’ll find you there and we will forge
along again, the way young lovers do.
But if I find you not, then look for me
upon our star, where I was meant to be.