Astronome

Where I am right now is outside, laying on my back, looking up at the stars.
The concrete below is whispering cold shivers through my plain grey hoodie.
Britta lies next to me and points up towards the sky with her index finger.
"This is Orion's Clitoris." Britta says.
A cold stream of steam softly falls out of her mouth.
Britta traces her index finger from the right, and then to the left and says, "Over here..." She says " This is Athena."
I take a pull off my Marlboro cigarette and pass it to Britta.
"This, over here..." Britta traces her index finger up, right, down, left, creating a square with her index finger. "...and this is the Louis Vutton purse her husband bought her on their third anniversary."
I laugh and pull my hood tight over my head, exhale a breath of cold steam into the air and take the cigraette out of Britta's hand.
"Louis Vutton?" I ask. "Are you sure that's not a Gucci, or a Coach knockoff."
"Fuck you! Just bear with me." Britta says.
How we got here, the two of us, laying on a cold cement patio, outside of Mike's Tavern is irrelevant. What is relevant, is the index finger, and the Jimmy Chew dress shoes of Cassiopeia.
Britta tilts her head to her right and tells me not to Bogart the cigarette.
"Sorry Judy Blume." I say.
Britta snaps her fingers and says, "Give it!"
I hand the cigarette over and tell Britta, " I think that's the big dipper."
"Nope." Britta says, "It's definitely the Armani suit pants from Orion's Belt." She says, "Look, you can even see the helm stitch."




Sometimes we take things for granted.
The people we Love.
The people who love us back.
Friends.
Family.
The Border Collie we go on runs with.
Sometimes we wake up in our 1000 count linens and squint at the sunlight coming through the small window to the left. We put on our glass slippers that seem to fit just right before bedtime, but cramp our toes and squeeze our heel before breakfast.
We walk out of the bedroom, take a right hand turn into a hallway, into a small bathroom with two hanging towels and twenty different body soaps.
The water feels warm as it runs over your naked body, the towel feels soft as it dries your naked remorse.
Sometimes, as people we take things for granted.
The tiny bottles of shampoo on the bathtub ledge.
We forget about the sofa in the living room, the flat screen television on the wall in front.
We forget about breakfast in bed, the breakfast that has three eggs and thick toast and thick bacon.
We forget about kisses and goodbyes before work.
Sometimes we take things for granted.
The people we Love.
The people who used to love us back.



Where I am right now is laying on my back, looking up at the stars.
Britta moves her left hand into my right hand and tells me "Orion was a big pussy." Britta says, "Don't even ask why."
I look over at Britta, and up at the stars, at Orion, at his belt and his pussy personality.
I remove my hand from Britta and ask her if she's ever been in love with someone.
Britta takes a long drag from my cigarette and tells me she has. "I get it." She says. "You still love her." She says "I get it."
I remove the Marlboro cigarette from Britta's left hand and tell her, "Something like that."