'I Work with a Guy Named Augustus'

i read a book once

that compared champagne to the stars,

and how when they drank

the bubbly wine,

they felt all the constellations

floating in their stomachs.

but i don’t drink to taste the stars.

i drink to see them blur above me,

watching the tiny dots tell tales

like ursa major and orion,

the glowing entities enacting the

deceitful bear and the righteous hunter.

or of pegasus and pleiades,

the loyalist and the seven fabled sisters.

i drink to have the stars

burning inside me,

their sparks flickering

and growing, waving around their

bright blue flames

that climb the wick of the sky

with every hour that passes.

and i drink

to feel their fires die.