we have enough
matchbooks to keep
ourselves warm for
a day or two and
after that

our bodies, tangled
up beneath blankets,
will work just as
well (if not

i couldn't help but
be entranced as we
stood there on the
corner, streetlamps
shining brightly in
your eyes...like the
lights reflecting
off calm lake
Michigan, like

those pictures of
the universe, galaxies
flickering in brilliant

(and sometimes, when
we're all alone, we
trace constellations
on each other's skin –

like orion's belt on
your forearm, the
little dipper on my
stomach. they

say we're made of
stars, you know, and
i believe it,

i do.)