For C.K. 

Here I sit

with feelings

no one could possibly want

waiting, waiting for the time.

That time does not separate us

yet miles do

makes this an astronomer's truism.

For he does not have to see the moon dust

of my misery, the shuttle landing

of children's voices

No telescope or chemical ever devised

could mend this heart of mine. 

As long as we are apart

I am an apparition.

Only that rosy planet looks down on me

sees my sorrow, my dreamies.