I realize I am in love.
I recognise the feeling:
hearth swelling, wonder
a desire to breathe the whole sky in.
 
I Inhale.
All the stars are still in the sky. Good.
 
Francesco speaks of Greek legends.
Galactic coachmen, immortal twins,
stories of jealousy and love.
We used the sky to mirror ourselves.
 
As I kid, I liked to think there were mysteries beyond humans,
now, as I stargaze, I know I am looking at the human soul as well.
 
He keeps commenting about discoveries
of water below ice in faraway planets.
Apparently, this means there could be life.
I interrupt him: isn’t this all life?
He looks at me unimpressed,
Still pointing his green laser that goes at the  speed of light or some crazy shit like that,
 
I guess, he says. The universe is in motion,
Did he also say,  and conscious of itself?
In my chest something melts away.
 
I look at Venus with the telescope.
She is white, with a thick ring and a big belly at the equator
I think he called it ‘Ecuadorian swelling.’
some ladies start laughing uncontrollably, and I remember that
dirty Italian humour which I guess must have been around since the Romans.
 
But Venus is older, I think, and I wish for silence as I watch
Venus looks like an old lover.
I ask myself what would it look like to love her from afar.
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