Walk into the Universe.

It is that certain tone in your voice

on the other end of the line
as much as the news you are relating
that makes me want to set the phone down
and walk away from it, this desk, this house, and you.

I think I will go for a stroll down to the corner
where the street sign is bent and turn west
and keep going until I have passed the park with the fountain,
that cafe where we eat lunch on Tuesdays,
and on past the last lights of the city.

Today I think I will take myself out through the valley
where the shadows mingle with the creeping grapevines
and up into the foothills where hand over hand
I will climb up to that large, flat rock
on the tallest peak.

I will wait there in silence
watching the sun slant its evening rays across
the red tabletop of the landscape
before it slips beneath the covers of the night
with a slow, weary sigh.

And when it is dark enough to see him,
I will ask Orion to set his bow aside
and kindly give me a hand up where I will continue to walk,
now with him, into the weightless, black comfort of space
to watch super novas explode into a million shards of light.

Then, when Dawn comes
tiptoeing into the kitchen of morning
like a beautiful, disheveled girl,
I will come home dew-drenched and trailing stars -
finally ready to listen to what you have to say.

Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh