Drunken Draft

The star I’ve been watching twinkles, and I wonder if it’s really a star at all.

I consider the possibilities of distant life, distant people, distant love, be it across the ocean or across the galaxy or across the street. The star I’m watching, the speed your car is traveling, both are the same.

Both are the same.

I consider the pseudoscience of extraterrestrial life and how it would behave. Would it find the things we do curious? Would it find the stupid emotions we display to each other odd or foreign? Would it take any interest in us at all?

I consider where you are now, an alien to myself. On a plane to Paris, in a car to Nevada.

I don’t think it makes a difference.

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