Green Linden Press

Satellites                                                                                                                —Timothy Liu

We lay down on that country road,
a freshly-painted dividing line

between us, the stars above.

At midlife, so many constellations
we still can't name. Let’s get up

only when the next car comes.

But the next car never came.
Show me Venus, show me Mars,

tell me the planets do not blink.

A satellite flew by and he said, Look!
Hundreds seen in those skies

that'd never look the same again.

 

Blind Date


One look and
I knew you

were a safe bet—
seatbelts

strapping us in
as the doors

slammed shut—