stay under the stars, where no one can make us change what we are

20/20

After I tell my mother that I
am ready to accept & declare
my birthright, my citizenship & domicile
of and on a strange planet that only seems to intersect
with the earth of humanity's orbit
(which in reality is always a half-step out of place,
a twist of logic too far,
a fata morgana)

she tells me that she lives there too.

No, I tell her, too quick and,
in hindsight, much too cruel,
I'm the only one.

After she somehow manages to gracefully recover from that
I shove my foot down my throat a few more times,
unintentionally, because I love her, I do, I just can't forget—

After, she finally leaves,
telling me that she can't bear to speak
to someone who isn't even trying to understand her,
(yet again, always over and over, streams of words
flow out of her mouth like the most bountiful river
an aquifer that will never run dry, if
if only someone would try to find it
and no one hears her, no one listens to what she is so desperately
needing to explain,
no one believes, no one understands, no one comprehends)

I force a hug on her before she goes
somehow sad that she will forgive me because she loves me too
but forgetting is always so easy for her—

After,
I think:

how sharply exquisite
how uniquely agonizing

it would be,
if everyone felt as I do,
trapped and alone and desperate to connect
but unable to reach out
excepting when our orbits truly intersect
like a celestial event,
fêted
and then—
     forgotten.

how completely true,
I suddenly realize:
it must be.