On the Ferry Back to the Island I Came From

I am in Cherry Grove licking a $9 ice cream cone wishing I wasn’t sitting on a bench next to two people in love watching the gay bar lit up in the colors of late summer sunsets listening to it sing and swell and feeling the reverb of its heartbeat on the wooden dock under my flip-flopped feet like my face is pressed up against stained glass watching indoor fireworks the golden sparks ricocheting off the panes my breath forms a fog my longing condenses into dew drops but no matter how hard I push I cannot break through it I am a mass of matter not qualified to be a planet not qualified to be buzzing and bolting bursts of light not qualified to be anything at all except another hapless devotee waiting for some divine intervention I have never had anyone fall in love with me though I’ve tried to push and shove many in so after this on the ferry back to the island I came from I will sit below deck stretch out my legs take up a whole bench to myself so the two people in love have to get their own bench and I’ll notice the moon outside my window so orange and so ginormous I’ll think its the stained glass window of a church and I’ll have no one to tell about it but I’ll pray to it anyways