which planet are you on now night gazer?
the purple one with velvet curtains?
sort of a last resort prom date
hooked on hard crafts,
non-necessities crawling out
of the other end of evaporation.
"good morning, reindeer.
good morning, dove."
dazed and confused Snow White
with a parade of woodland creatures
and a halo of tweety birds
gargling around your head.
you are just shy of the target
like forgetting the salt
and only realizing it
after the pan is out of the oven.
but it's alright.
the wind will keep moving your hair.
your identities will orbit one another
like constellations afraid
of their own back sides.
maybe one day you will be internet famous.