And the moment in between...

Awake, waiting alone with the promise of the late night meteor shower. My eyes betrayingly set on this blank paper, as the echo of the Oakland train perpetrates the night. I have decided to rebel against the sky's possession of my searching eyes and excuse myself from the anxious await.

Still the moments in between...waiting...waiting....waiting...

Now, the memory of the last stab of light grows dim and dusty with cobwebs. It rocks in the chair at an agonizingly monotonous speed. It plays Bingo and eats applesauce, tapioca, and rests its removable teeth on the nightstand.

I am irritated.

It has been at least four minutes since the last meteor.

My impatience is taking a slow and painful wreckoning on the meteor shower. In the time in between, I cynically compare the meteor to a sparkler with a shorter lifespan. I question my cold wait on the balcony...ridiculing the meteor in its assumption that its as magnificent as the space shuttle or electric can opener. Quickly, I come to the conclusion that the meteor shower is something humans do to feel closer to purity, like a hip detox. A cleanse-in trade for your deprivation, instead merely stripping you of all your nutrients. I blame the meteor for making me wait for a drip after being promised a shower...feeling lied to and humiliated. My hurt feelings turn to anger, like an alcoholic.

And then I wonder in my impatience and feverish Sharpie moving its way across the paper, How many have I missed sitting here staring at this piece of paper? Were there eight at once, or one after the other? Were they blue and green, yellow and purple? Did they circle inside themselves like the star at the end of the Saturday morning cartoons, leaving me stuffed from my huge episodic meal.

And again, I am irritated...

Was this what the meteor shower wanted? Maybe its tired of living up to the expectations. Maybe it merely wanted to be met with a glance up and chance meeting. A ren dez vous. A greeting with a subtle smirk and slowly shaking finger, "You got me again, you bastard". To fill the time in-between with inexplicable joy and contagious laughter. To trade the guest star spot for the featured extra. To simply make an appearance and Houdini out.

Most likely, it intended me to wait. Stupid universe. Clearly, I have a smaller attention span than you. I have now left messages for friends in L.A., Chicago, and New York to check you out...I have contacted three major U.S. cities, How about a little kickback for the press, huh?

And so, I wait...

It has now been at least 6 minutes.

I am aware of how solitary I am here, waiting, alone, growing doubtf......

And then a glittering white scar stabs the black sky to death, and a not so silent gasp

escapes from my mouth. I am struck deaf and blind to the world beyond the meteor, resting peacefully in the beauty of its grip.

And there I sat, like a child who doesn't want to get out of the pool.

Me and the empty sky.

The empty sky and me.

Momentarily, not in confrontation.