i became the moon in your sky just so i could follow you home again. it’s a story that’s been told many times before, i’m sure. girl chases girl chases girl chases girl, girl is moonlight, girl is record scratch and slow dance, girl is ten feet too tall and has forgotten how to wake up. girl becomes all things breathing in the dead of night. this rabid generation. this sleepless species. i’m sorry, we all say, as we prepare to go over this again. you’ve heard it before, but i miss you, the way that boy in ’85 missed his dog after he ran away and never stopped believing it would come back one summer afternoon. i am sure tomorrow i will wake up and you will be outside my door all roughed-up and the same, bone between your teeth, soaked in the hot stench of august. and i will say come here, the smiths are playing on the radio, and we’ve got a decade or two before the world goes to shit.
but the bed isn’t made and the lights are still on, and i am still sitting outside your window willing you to look up into this wide chasm i am treading in. i have come all this way, baby. i have moved the oceans for you. i swallowed up the stars just for a chance that you might look upon me the way you used to. like i birthed the world within your bedroom. and the oceans sigh. and the stars burn for all the faithless children trying to believe in something. my baby goes to sleep under the august sky. poor moon. full of universe and troubled love. i believe in something. perhaps in tomorrow. i say it to the oceans. the waves crash unfeeling on the shore. more earth turned to memory. another summer devoured.
Zoe Baber is a seventeen-year-old high school junior in Southern California.