Clouds hit the mountain range
east of here, heave up
until, I swear, Mt. Palomar
looks like the ghost
of Kilimanjaro.
There's a big telescope up there,
Palomar I mean, operated by scientists.
Do they ever look down here
when rain sweeps toward them
off the Pacific ocean
knowing their altitude
will turn rain to snow
and soon they will shine in our sun rise?
Maybe some day
I will cut a hole in my bedroom ceiling
so I can lay face up
on my new purple duvet
and plot my course.
