by Verena Johns-Thomas

I remember the ocean, 

A little island,  

With little houses,  

Filled with little people 

From little places.  

Right off the little pier 

Hooked up to all their little boats 

Was a little field.  

And there in that field, 

At night  

You could look out and see it 

Under the razor-shadowed moon 

And glittering stars,  

The big city.  

A jagged maw of bright lights,  

It was captivating by design 

A great big place 

Where all the big great people are,  

Where anyone who’s anyone 

Did anything worth anything 

Now I’m here,  

The air’s just thick enough 

To make me sick on a bad day.  

Entire neighborhoods 

Bigger than that little island 

Hollow and haunted.  

Now, when I look out the window,  

And squint real hard,  

I can make pretend the houses 

Crawling up the side of the mountain 

Is actually that skyline I’d eyed so long ago 

I’d gone from small town,  

To big town, 

To little city,  

To…  

Here.  

Now, sometimes at night,  

I look up at the hazy moon.  

You know,  

I think I miss the stars.