Darkness caresses eyes too tired to close. Crickets duel drums, radio fades. Bedsheets quiver, beckon. I feel the starshine, but unseenã lost in the freeway glare. No stars? Gaze upward ... no stars. Cold isolation. In Iowa, they're watching Sirius, in Ohio, Antares, in Wyoming, Rigel. And me: another searchlight shoots the sky. Left out, is this a different world? Nothing to be a guide, to wish upon, to reach for. Open the door. Darkness pours in, eating the light. City skyline mocks me, "Look to me. I am your hope." I spent last night on the roof. Waiting For glowing Altair, whispering "you're not alone." For winking Polaris, leading me to new destinations. For enticing Vega, pleading "come visit me." But they were slain by the city. I climb down, still awake, as our daytime star rises. What good is sleeping if you have nothing to dream about?