On cold sand, waves smash

where we stand 

trapped within 

this San Francisco cityscape. 

Look up. I bet our galactic road 

curves to an Alpha 

Centauri wedding 

smacking upon lips of spectacle

but we cannot pierce  

through streetlights

cloaking the starlight above.

We forgot how to shovel 

Milky Way glow 

into the grids of our minds.

Can we remember? Let’s sprout 

a new cosmic wonder.

Every star is a sun

my mother once said 

back in the sponge 

growth of my boyhood. 

On our wedding night, remember 

we sped across the Golden Gate

to delight upon a Sausalito sky

when you asked, 

how many alien newlyweds 

do you think are staring 

at us in wonderment?