Citizens of the Universe

Long before the marshalls came..

And the bubbleman gave us son dernier spectacle..

Everyone from the avenue knew my face…

The perfectly-polished lady in white..

Always spotted in the day..

Typically, out of sight…

She watched me grow..

But she wasn’t my Mother..

Surely, my Mother would have never let me go…

Beyond the most shallow depths..

When she’d always prefer that I’d stay..

By the shore…

Just as the seaweed in San Juan..

Would wrap around my ankles..

Convincing me that they wanted me to stay…

I would quickly discover..

They were only holding me in place..

So the roaring waves could knock me down…

Nonetheless, I constantly stood back up..

And began to spin..

As I heard the dejection, a destitute man, playing his Guitarrón Mexicano…

Tunes on the the boardwalk in Quintana Roo..

Where the people would sing and dance..

Push aside their troubles, wicked exploitations they suffered, for a night of ranchera-tinged salvation…

I had imagined if every grain of sand on the beaches represented a foreign galaxy..

There was indeed much beyond our world..

That I would never see…

Or maybe I already did?..

Such as when Chelyabinsk crashed into Earth..

I was born out of the Cosmo’s…

To the streets of Allentown..

Where the thrillseekers roamed..

And the gypsy woman resided…

Her performances merely her partitions..

To buy back the woman..

The world had stolen from her…

Eviction notices became petty love letters..

For a wanderer such as myself..

Because the walls had been plenty tainted and life is full of dreams…

Our castle in the air..

Where we laughed after we ran..

More merry than molly…

Wondering if we should play Galaga, the next time we are in San Junipero?..

Certainly, we know all about tractor beams..

And captured starfighters...

Alone in Allentown again, I catch the glimpses..

Of stories told by the glass and mirrors..

The artwork on the street, lost shoes and cats...

A woman that balances a basket..

On her head..

As she walks…

Another human still learning the world in my reflection..

No different than the rover woman that made the pavement her stage, the barren man with his decorated guitar..

At last, he finally understood that no home would ever truly belong to anyone forever…

Yet, I reminded him, myself, that we..

Would always be home..

Citizens of the Universe.