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he crept out onto the roof
to feel the crunch of snow on his boots
and to feel the burn
run up the inside of his thighs
to wait and think
before morning whisked away the brilliance of the moon
and thousands of evening stars

looking over the emptiness
that comes with rural living
lives marked by mailboxes
miles and miles apart

he knew she was out there
pausing in her driveway
neck tilted up to examine the stars
if only he knew what she was thinking
if only he knew she was thinking of him

instead he had his own thoughts
haunted by science
things dreamers shouldn't think about
the enormous shifting plates underneath him
slowing dragging his world out to sea