“Oh, don’t even try to connect the dots,”

he said.

It’s true.

The space inside and the one above

the cosmos of you and me,

no way to comprehend.

Particulate matter we are,

no less starburst than shredded skin,

chutes and ladders,

helix twist,

the cellular merry-go-round

that tells tales of why

you lie to me and I lie back.

We’ve grown accustomed to the fable.

New aliens and a nearby planetary commune,

where we respond in airwaves,

traveling to when the earth,

long gone up in flame,

reaches and touches

the vibrations they are.

He laughed when I said,

“Let’s have a drink and test the vibe.”

I meant it.

I, as matter, feel your integrity,

just as you feel my heat.

The light in me bows to the light in you.

A stuttering twinkling of time and we connect

the stars with fated fingers.

No body survives.