these stars like so many low-flying planes

i sat in the back yard on a tree stump.
my feet were on the concrete.
i thought about moving to a folding chair
to have something to press my back against.
in the kitchen it was four degrees cooler
and upstairs it was fifteen degrees warmer
but these are just guesses.
the planes moved overhead
loudly. the christmas tree lights hung around the windows
looked nice. it smelled like it had just rained.
it had. straight ahead in a window i watched
as a woman turned a very bright light
on and off.
i called my mom and told her to build a veranda.
i said there weren't enough verandas being built these days.
she asked me how i was doing.
i told her i was getting over a cold that yesterday i thought i'd gotten over entirely.
we talked about the last time we'd seen constellations.
i said i had to go, and that i loved her, and i hung up.
i didn't have anywhere to go.
i watched the skies, and thought about if certain things
were something else entirely.