Supernova Connections

I am a supernova
      -of ideas-
much to my sister's consternation.
Nothing is too sacred, 
     no moment safe.
Rewriting the bible,
   rewriting the church,
Spreading 'Harveyism'
     (for lack of a better name)
         across the land.

"No problem!" I say happily, 
     bold, "I'll rewrite them, Cliff Notes versions."
She sounds so serious
     when she asks, almost fearful of the answer.
"Oh yeah, how's that go?"
Grinning, I reply, "Be a good person.
Don't hurt others. Be happy and shit.
     If they aren't hurting anyone,
leave 'em alone. Everyone
     deserves the right to be fuckin' happy."
"Jesus never sounded quite so... Philly."
     came her droll reply.

"Yeah well, if He'd been more direct
     maybe people wouldn't mess it up
quite so much."
 I turn serious, for once, 
   -blink and you'll miss it-
"It makes me so sad
   that people miss the Truth."

The table I sit at is wooden,
     carpenter's son,
strange connections. Harrison Ford.
Red hair, sisters, strange connections,
     phone lines no longer necessary
digital signal bouncing from relay to relay
searching for connections.

"And what is that?" her voice calls
me back before I forget my proselytizing. 
     "If God is Love, then maybe
     a little less hate, would get us what we want-" I frowned, not
quite sure what I meant.
     "I mean Love, the Truth is Love." I nod to myself, tracing
fingers across wooden table.

Autumn- Digression

The leaves are changing again
             some things never change.

I am walking to the park
           alone, again,
    to see if maybe - this time -
I'll find your ghost
    hiding between
laughter and blades of grass.
Alone, in my head, my voice talks
        'maybe, maybe, maybe'
 but I know better than to hope.

The leaves go from green to red to yellow
  changing, ever year.

The ghost of myself stands in front of our door
       knowing you lied, knowing
I will never walk past
         and see your eyes smiling at me.
You promised me forever
  (forever, forever, forever
   the words echo hollowly
   in the emptiness of our house).
You are a liar.
      I am alone.

III

III.

We decorated our bodies
  with galaxies and stardust
and ate cosmic sunbeams
    for dinner.
Turning to me, face flushed, 
    eye bright and arms spread,
 "I've often wondered,
   what happiness was - is -
            could be."
Beautiful eyes, dancing with super novae, 
         and dark  matter -
I watched ever closer, for that change
   From dawn to dusk
because sunsets are 
          never enough
     and stars don't sparkle
          in space. 

The smile is genuine, cast in moonlight
      atmosphere coats us
   in metallic blues and purples
           as the moon rises, higher and higher.
Your sigh is heartfelt, I watch you-
       watch the stars, and say,
"If this moment could be preserved, 
        kept secret.
   I would return, night after night, 
   to when you held my hand
and let me watch the sky."