I'm jealous of the sky -
not because it can communicate with stars.
I barely notice when it paints with yellow,
or when it bleeds with red and orange.

I don't flinch with its jolt of thunder -
I stopped paying mind to its wind.
In fact, if it cracked wide open -
I would shake its hand and meet my end.

It's all of the things the sky can see -
not the...