Laying among the rubble, and the toy cars,

and the mountains eclipsed only by molehills,

& watchtowers.

                         A small sun,

As small as a marble,

smaller perhaps,,,

smaller perhaps,,,

pale orange, and perfectly smooth.

Nothing rhymes with orange.

I’ve seen this before on television,

I have seen this sun and that sun, and

all the other sun’s,

I have heard all the ooo’s and ahhh’s,

                                                    and I have filed them away.

My hat is on the other side of the fence,

I can see it, curled up like a cat, just out of my reach.

It is not keeping the sun out of my eyes  laying there.

I’ve seen this written on the bathroom mirror.

But it was lost,

[[ I lost it]]

                                              In the same messy bathroom  with the  foggy mirror.

                                                          Lost like a moth in a dark, dark desert,

finding beautiful  desert flowers  in the night  then fluttering away looking for another source of light and water and nectar,

when the moth finally realized it wasn’t a butterfly,

when the moth realized it wasn’t  nuclear

when it landed on a the thorn of a cactus,

and the bats and the cultures circled above,

waiting for the moth to slip off the                             thorn,

                 off the throne.

Guitars playing all the while  in the background.,

strumming gently, like the night itself.

Lost for forty days and forty nights and finding nothing but sand,

                             and dust from the wings of moths,

It’s absence,

the absence,

echoed throughout the void, and it trickled down the window until it settled at the bottom of the canyon.

                                              Burnt, beautiful and wet.

We were just rambling, we are lost in the hallway…

A lightbulb missing from a vanity,

in that same messy bathroom.

Fallen from a galaxy that is really missing it’s sun.

It was the homerun that they never got back.

The other sun.

This one in the sky.

In my sky.

The one next laying next to me.

My sun is laying  next to me.

This one looked down.

This one looked at me.

They knew where this sun ended up,

among the dead and dying leaves,

on the other side of the fence with my cat   hat

among the sparkling stars and the sparkling dust from the wings of moths,

among the

among the dead and dying,

Among the groves of trees,

                             and the dead and the dying still.

That  sun knew and  that sun cared,

But that sun in the sky, without arms,

and with the clouds offering nothing but rain and wind and fits of rage,

and always talking on the phone, making the sun miss important calls.

This other sun, busy with groceries,

& opening and closing the garage door

The lost sun,

settled among the stones, the tennis balls and  and the rest of the  wreckage,

Laying comfortably  there in the dirt, shining on nothing,

those neon green sun’s,   ////// Fading to yellow

////// Fading to black

half buried, half alive,

burnt,  beautiful and wet.