i keep looking up for your face in the stars but constellations have only ever looked like spoons to me     by Stephen Michael McDowell _____________________ we were here, together, yesterday there is a memory of when you smiled and kissed me the once, before those after times, and that memory happens only in me and feels like a burp no wait, a creek in a forest of farts hold on, of a dream thing and i am cool air on a calm lagoon of thoughts of you and am somehow also a furnace, immobile and on fire about you, a star bubble, asking the thought in itself when can we try out that thing with your butt _____________________ >