Out here in the
endless stretch of
cornfields
(which, by the way,
I do not like)
I watch the stars
blink on,
one by one,
until the whole sky lights up
like a Christmas tree
(in the window
of a poor family).

They do their old,
old crisscross in the
worn out sky.
Millions of complex
patterns scattered across
the jet black
night.

I close my eyes, briefly
and the
purple hues
and greenish tints
flash across my eyelids
in an explosion
of light.

When the sun finally
rose from her slumber,
I kept thinking
to myself that if the
sun exploded right now,
I would feel her warmth on my
skin for
eight more minutes
before I froze to death.