That’s no space station, just a moon
under which the dog ends have been cast,
soothsaying stones around which we
gather at the end of summer’s first light.
One possible truth evades definition
in glibly respectful text message farewells
making it more than blatantly obvious
we’ll never see each other again.
We both know that time will turn
this ache from a chasm into a ditch
filled with the dazzling minutiae of lives
you’ve convinced yourself must be lived apart,
so no matter how close we actually are
you will make sure that we’re far away.